


Rich Kids

by Rory_Croft



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rory_Croft/pseuds/Rory_Croft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on my tumblr, but recently, I've started revising it so I can post it on here. So, yeah, hope you like it :)

When Niall was born, his parents were just on the brink of success. His father had opened his own grocery store when Niall’s brother, Greg, was born six years earlier. His father was sick of working long hours at the Tesco. He was sick of never seeing his family. Though his wife pointed out that running a store would be much harder than working in one, he convinced her that it would be worth it in the long run. 

Eventually, she agreed, and they sunk their life savings into the store. By the time Niall was born, they were opening a second store on the outskirts of Dublin.  
His wife had been right, running a store was hard work, and running two was harder. In his long hours at the office, he missed Niall’s first steps and his first word (“cookie”). He didn’t take Niall to his first day of school, and it was Greg who, reluctantly, taught Niall how to ride a bike. 

Niall got used to only seeing his father on major holidays. It wasn’t like he never saw him. He saw him at breakfast, and sometimes, on a good day, at dinner. But he was never really there. His mind was always at his stores—unless it was a holiday. Come Christmas or Niall’s birthday, he had his father’s undivided attention. It was those days that reassured Niall that all the working his father was doing was for him and his brother. He just wanted to give them the life they deserved.

When Niall was eight, his parents sat down him and Greg in the living room. They said they had news, and with the way his parents had been fighting recently, Niall feared they would tell them they were getting a divorce because that’s what happened when Sean’s parents fought all the time. Niall clutched the couch cushion in anticipation and told himself not to cry because Greg would just make fun of him.

“We’re moving to London,” his dad had said. Niall released his death grip and let out a sigh of relief as his father explained about them opening two more stores: one in London and one in Edinburgh. 

Greg, who was fourteen at the time and had a girlfriend, threw a fit about how his parents were ruining his life and they couldn’t just uproot their lives and take them from their friends. A fact Greg left out, and no one was cruel enough to point out, was that Niall had no friends. 

While Greg yelled at his parents, Niall sat silently on the couch, kicking his feet against the leather and thinking about packing up all his toys. 

*** 

The thing about being rich and moving to a new town was that you automatically became someone’s best friend. Usually, it meant you became the best friend of someone only slightly less rich than you, who always felt inferior when your shoes were newer than theirs, or someone only slightly richer than you, who was almost always a jerk. Since Niall’s family moved into the biggest house in the neighborhood, the former was the position Niall found himself in.

On the first day they arrived, Niall sat in the yard pulling at the grass even though his father kept telling him to stop because it was “expensive.” It made no sense to Niall. Grass just grew. You didn’t buy it, so how could it be expensive. But the more he moved the grass in between his fingers, the most he noticed that it didn’t feel right.

“It’s fake,” said the shadow that suddenly appeared at his side. Niall looked up and saw a boy around his age with short brown hair staring down at him. He had kind eyes that reminded Niall of chocolate, and he was smiling. Without being invited, the boy sat down next to him. “It’s so it always looks good, and they never have to cut it.” 

“I didn’t know you could buy grass,” Niall said, dropping the blades onto the ground. He pushed them down so they blended into the other blades. They last thing he needed was his dad yelling at him for breaking the grass.

“You can buy anything,” the boy said. “I’m Liam, by the way. I live next door.” The boy—Liam, he corrected—held out his hand. Niall knew that when you met a grown-up, you were supposed to shake their hand, but he had never had a kid hold out his hand for him. He took it anyway.

“Niall,” he said. Liam smiled a smile that was a little too toothy and said it was nice to meet him, and just like that, they were best friends.

Despite being a year younger than Liam, they were in the same year because Niall tested out of his grade. They were practically attached at the hip, one never going anywhere without the other. Unlike the stereotypical set-ups, though, Liam never felt inferior when Niall got a nicer bike than him at Christmas. All Liam cared about was the fact that they were riding together. Of course, Niall never made him feel inferior either. That was something his brother liked to do, and Niall just couldn’t understand it. 

*** 

The closest Horan’s store to their house was twenty minutes away, and the stipulation of Niall getting a car on his seventeenth birthday was that he had to work there at least three days a week. Greg had thrown a hissy fit (of course) when he turned seventeen and had to work, and as soon as he turned eighteen, he quit. 

Niall didn’t mind so much, though. He was a people person. He wasn’t like the other rich kids who went to school with him and Liam. He didn’t look down anyone, and was nice to pretty much everyone he met. Unless of course, he crossed him or his friends; then he could be the meanest person you ever saw. Liam said the two of them were different because they were “raised right” and came from “humble beginnings,” and the others were just spoiled. Niall would just shrug when he said this because he wanted to see the best in people.

For some reason, the store was always dead on Wednesday nights. They had done some surveys and there were statistics that explained why, but Niall didn’t care so much to have his father explain it to him. All he knew was he liked working Wednesdays because it was quiet, and he could do his chemistry homework, and talk to Liam who always worked the register next to him. Liam didn’t really need the job, but his parents thought it would build character. 

“I will never understand chemistry,” Liam complained. “Ever. Like why do I need to know this?”

“You don’t,” Niall said, staring down at his book. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he tried to comprehend the formula on the page. All the letters seemed to jump up from the page and spin around then land in a completely different position. 

“Then why did we take it?” Liam asked. “We could have taken like oceanography and played with fish all day.” 

“I don’t think that’s what they do in that class, Li,” Niall said. He closed his book and shoved it under his counter. “Plus, it was full, remember? And this was the only science class with two spaces left. And Mrs. Tuft said it would look good on our transcripts.” 

“Yeah, like we need to go to Uni,” Liam said. “We have fortunes to inherit.” 

“I hate when you get frustrated,” Niall said. “You start to sound like one of them.”

“It’s true though,” Liam said. He gave up on his homework and pushed it away. “If we didn’t want to go to Uni, we wouldn’t have to.” 

“I want to go to Uni,” Niall reminded him. “And so do you.”

“Yeah, but you want to go for writing, and I want to go for sports management,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll have to explain elements to the football team I’m managing.”

“I know, Liam, I know.” 

“Speaking of Uni,” Liam said. His tone was more careful now, so Niall knew exactly what he was about to say. “Have you told him yet?”

“No.” Niall decided last year that he didn’t want to major in business when he went to university. His dad wanted him to, of course, so he could take over the business. His dad had given up on Greg, who didn’t go to university at all and was living with his trust-fund girlfriend in downtown London. Niall knew if he explained his passion for writing to his father, he would understand, but he would have to see the same disappointment he saw in his father’s eyes when Greg told him he wasn’t going to go to school. Greg didn’t care about disappointing his parents; Niall cared a lot. 

“Don’t you think you should?” Liam asked. “It’s only a year away, and we need to start seriously looking into schools.”

“I know,” Niall said. “Soon. I swear.”

Liam was about to say something else, but Niall had a customer. He recognized the tall boy as soon as he approached the register with his basket. Niall had been staring at the messy curls for the past week. The boy put his basket down and kept his eyes to the ground.

“Hello,” Niall said cheerfully. “Welcome to Horan’s! Did you find everything you need?”

“Yeah,” the boys said. He didn’t look up; he pulled his card from his wallet and watched each item pop up on the screen in front of him. He gripped the counter tightly. 

“You’re Harry, yeah?” Niall asked as he slid the items over the scanner. “You transferred to the academy last week? You’re in my chemistry class.”

“You don’t say,” Harry said, obviously uninterested in small talk. 

“Yeah, I was just working on the homework,” Niall said. “It’s not going to well, if you know what I mean. I’m Niall, by the way. That’s Liam. He’s in our class, too.” Liam waved from behind Niall, but Harry didn’t acknowledge him.

“Pleasure, I’m sure,” Harry said dully.

“These are buy one get one free,” Niall said, holding up the box of bandages.

“I only need one box,” said Harry.

“But it’s free,” Niall said.

“Can you just finish up? I would like to get home before my next birthday.” 

“Right.” Usually Niall would have asked when his birthday was as a joke, but Harry obviously wasn’t one for jokes. He finished ringing Harry up and handed him his receipt with a smile. Harry took the paper and his bags and left without another word.

As soon as the doors shut behind Harry, Liam hopped over his counter and slid onto Niall’s. “I heard he had to transfer here because he was thrown out of his last school,” he said. “He’s a year younger than you, you know? Apparently he’s really smart or something, but doesn’t, like, apply himself.” 

“Liam, you know how I can only be around Louis for brief periods of time because all he does is gossip?” Niall asked, raising an accusing eyebrow in Liam’s direction.

“It’s not like I’m saying anything bad,” Liam said in his defense. “I said he was smart.”

“You said he got kicked out of his other school.”

“Maybe he was kicked out for being too smart.” 

Niall snorted, and started wiping down his station. “What does it matter anyway?” he asked. 

“Because you’ve been staring at him since he walked into out classroom on Monday,” Liam said. Niall felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. 

He never had to tell Liam he was gay. It just came up in conversation one day when they were fourteen. Liam was talking about this girl in their art class who he liked. Niall casually mentioned that he thought her twin brother was cuter. Liam stopped and looked at Niall to gauge if he was joking. Once he knew he wasn’t, Liam smiled and said that they could be related if they married them. 

Niall never thought there was anything wrong with him. He just thought it was normal that Liam liked girls, and he liked boys. He knew he hadn’t made the decision, so he didn’t see how he was doing anything wrong. Plus, Liam’s nonchalant attitude toward his crush reassured him. That was until he said something about liking the boy at dinner with his family. 

His dad stared at him and his brother pulled a disgusted face. His mom just smiled and told him that it was nice that he had a crush. Greg called him a rude name under his breath, one that started with a “f” and still made Niall cringe. His father hadn’t said anything, and he continued not to say anything ever since. Niall knew better than to bring it up to anyone other than Liam now.

“He has nice features,” Niall said. 

“He has nice features,” Liam scoffed. “Who talks like that, Niall?”

“I do, obviously,” Niall said. “It’s not like I like him. I think he’s attractive. He has nice features.”

“Whatever you say, Nialler,” Liam said. He got off the counter and walked back over to his station. “Just be careful, yeah? He may have been kicked out for a reason more scandalous than he was ‘too smart.’”

“Or maybe he wasn’t kicked out enough, gossip girl,” he responded, rolling his eyes. Liam was overprotective of him. Niall literally could not look at another boy without Liam warning about the dangers of said boy, and there was anyways a danger, and Liam always knew what it was.

“I’m just saying.” 

“You know, Liam, if you keep pushing me away from people like this,” Niall said with a smirk. “I’m going to start to think you have a crush on me.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Niall chuckled and went back to his chemistry homework. They both worked on it together until it was time to close up.


	2. The Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

It had been a week since Harry and Niall’s awkward encounter at the store. Niall had seen him come in on two other occasions, but he always avoided Niall’s line. Liam told Niall not to take it personally, but he had a hard time complying. Usually, he would just shrug off something like this. He wasn’t the kind of person who got upset over something so small, but for some reason, it felt different this time.

Maybe it was because Harry was the first person who didn’t like him since he moved to London. Growing up, he was used to being an outcast. The kids he grew up with thought he was strange. He never knew why, but he didn’t have friends. Once he moved to London, it seemed like everyone wanted to be his friend. He still only kept to a small group of people, but he knew everyone. He liked everyone and everyone liked him.

Except Harry.

It nagged at him as he watched the curly haired boy from across the room. He was working alone due to the odd number of students in the class, but something told Niall that he would have chose to work alone either way. He hunched over his instructions and squinted his eyes as he carefully measured out the chemicals. He lifted his eyes, and they locked on Niall’s briefly. Panic rose in Niall’s chest and he looked down at his instructions. 

“Niall? Niall, are you going to help or not?” Liam asked, pulling him from his thoughts. “Because I may actually blow us up.” 

“I’m pretty sure this is just peroxide and water, Liam,” Niall said. He brought the bottle up to his nose to sniff it. He didn’t even know what they were supposed to be testing for, or if they were even “testing” anything at all. 

Their teacher, Mr. Marshall, sat at the front of the class reading a magazine. This was his last year teaching, and it seemed like he could care less about what went on in his classroom. He would probably give them all A’s just so he wouldn’t have to work. Liam tried to use this argument while they were doing their homework, but Niall made him power through until they finished it all.

“Are we supposed to have one of those burner things?” Liam asked. He set down his paper and started looking through the supplies under the table.

“’Do not expose to open flame,’” Niall read from the instructions. Liam straightened up and took the paper from him. He read the line Niall had just read, shrugged, and sat down.

“I’m just going to sit here,” Liam said. “Can we just make up the results?”

“Sure,” Niall said even though it was against his moral code. Liam had the same moral code—in fact, his was more intense than Niall’s—he just really didn’t like chemistry. 

While Liam scribbled away at his paper, Niall went back to surveying the room. Of course, his eyes fell back on Harry. He hadn’t lied to Liam the other day. He did think Harry had nice features. His lips were plump and stuck in a permanent semi-pout that would only work on Harry’s face. His shirt was always baggy enough to expose his collarbone that jutted out under perfect rich skin. 

Though his face was almost always in a scrawl, his eyes were a bright green that Niall good see all the way across the room. Then there was his hair. Niall couldn’t deny that should the opportunity present itself, he would run his fingers through the thick brown mop, pulling on every curl just to watch it bounce back. 

“Do you want me just to copy what I wrote on your paper?” Liam asked. Niall nodded vacantly and pushed his paper in Liam’s direction. 

Niall’s gaze moved to Harry’s hands, which were large and seemed to dwarf everything he picked up. I wonder what my hands would look like in his, Niall thought. He quickly pushed the idea from his head because there was a laundry list of reasons why that would never happen. Topping the list were the fact that Harry hated him, followed closely by his family probably wouldn’t approve. 

Liam was saying something about a party this weekend at Louis’s, but Niall wasn’t listening because there was always a party at Louis’s on the weekend. Plus, his attention had been turned from Harry to the table behind him. 

The table behind Harry was where Simon, captain of the football team, and his girlfriend, Becky, were doing their work. Either they finished or, like everyone else, they had given up. They were laughing and whispering; every other second, they would point to Harry, who was the only one who was still legitimately working. Niall watched them with careful eyes because usually when Simon was laughing, it didn’t mean anything good.

Simon was one of the few people that Niall didn’t like. That was because one: he was a twat and two: he was a twat. Niall hadn’t known Simon existed until grade eleven when Liam was trying out for the football team. Niall sat in the bleachers and watched because he didn’t want to play on a proper team. Liam was nervous, and Simon took advantage of that. 

During the whole game, Simon was unnecessarily rough toward Liam and when they were off the field, he would say horrible things to him. Though Niall was ready to jump from the bench to defend his friend, Liam grabbed his arm and told him it was ok. They both made the team, and little by little Simon started to leave Liam alone, but he always had to have someone to pick on. 

And that day, it looked like it was Harry.

No one else was paying attention. They were all caught up in conversation, or, like Liam, were scrolling through their phones. Niall watched as Simon got up. He nodded in Harry’s direction and Becky giggled. Harry had his back to Simon and was holding the beaker up at eye level so he could see, a speck of his pink tongue pushing through his lips. Simon walked behind Harry and bumped him harshly into the table. 

“Oops,” Simon said. “Didn’t see you there. My bad.” 

Some of the people around them laughed; Mr. Marshall didn’t even look up. As far as Simon’s attacks went, this was pretty timid. Niall was about to write it off when he saw that Harry was slouched over the table and clutching his waist where his body had hit. His eyes were squeezed closed and his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. Niall looked around to see if anyone was going ask if he was all right. When nobody made a move, Niall did.

He walked to Harry’s table and rested gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Are you ok?” he asked quietly. 

Harry shrugged Niall’s hand off his shoulder violently and looked up at him. His eyes were full of rage and had he stayed a minute longer, Niall would have been able to confirm that those were tears brimming at that edge. But Harry didn’t stay. He walked from the room in a hurried pace, leaving all his things behind, and still holding his middle.

*** 

When Niall was in grade ten, he got a nosebleed. He had bolted from the room and ran to the bathroom in hopes of making it stop. Liam followed him, of course, and made him go to the nurse. Niall hated when people made a fuss over him; he hated when they worried about things that, to him, seemed so minor. It was this incident that sent Niall straight to the nearest bathroom when he grabbed Harry’s bag and left the classroom. No one questioned him. They just let him go.

He tugged the plain black bag onto his shoulder and walked down the hall until he got to the bathroom. As he suspected, Harry was standing at the mirror. His view was clear long enough to see the streaks of wet down Harry’s face and the red of his eyes. As soon as Harry saw him, he ran to the nearest stall and shut the door.

“Harry? Are you ok?” Niall asked, stopping in front of the stall. “Do you need to see the nurse? I can take you if you—“

“What do you want?” Harry asked. His voice was hoarse from crying. He cleared his throat. 

“I just wanted to see if you were ok,” Niall said. “Simon can be a real jerk, and I just—“

“Leave me alone.” 

“Harry, if you’re hurt, you should—“

“I’m fine!” Harry shouted. “Just leave me the hell alone!” 

Niall nodded even though Harry couldn’t see him. There was clearly something wrong with the younger boy, but he wasn’t going to talk to Niall. Niall knew he couldn’t force it either. He took Harry’s bag from his back and set it on the floor. He kicked it under the door.

“Well, I brought you your things,” Niall said. “I stuffed the assignment in the front pocket. You seem to be the only one who was really working on it, so I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He just pulled the bag toward him with his foot. Niall chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to do something more for Harry. He was just so upset. Niall pawed at his pockets until he came up with an old receipt from lunch. He took a pen from his pocket and scribbled his number done.

“Here,” he said, slipping the paper under the stall door and letting it hit the floor. “I know you probably won’t use it, or you’ll throw it away, but that’s my number. If you need anything, or if you just want to talk…” he trailed off because he knew he sounded stupid. He knew it was a futile attempt. “It’s just there, ok? I’ll go now.” 

Niall turned and walked out of the door. He wasn’t going to look back, but he was glad he did. Had he not, he would have missed Harry’s hand putting the receipt in the front pocket of his bag.


	3. Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Louis’s house was two streets over from where Niall and Liam lived. It was large (larger than Niall’s old house in Ireland by thousands of square feet), but not nearly as big as the houses on their street. Their more-rude neighbors referred to Louis’ street and those surrounding it as the “poor-rich” section because yes, they had money, but not enough. Niall shook his head at these people.

It didn’t bother Louis though because he threw the best parties, and everyone knew it. Come Saturday night, if you weren’t at Louis’s house, you might as well be living under a rock. Niall went out of obligation. Louis was one of his closest friends (even though he could only spend time with him in increments), so he had to be there. And he was Niall Horan, so he had to be there. 

Niall walked around the pool absent-mindedly while he sipped his soda. If anyone asked him, he would say there was rum in it. Being high on the social ladder meant doing things that were socially acceptable, which included drinking and driving, apparently. Dying in a mess of metal and fire was not something Niall was willing to risk for a night of “fun.” 

That’s not to say he never drank. He did. He was Irish! Of course, he drank. But it was usually at home when him and Liam would watch the game with his family. Or when he knew he was staying somewhere or had a ride home. He was big on safety. 

Niall scanned the crowd for Liam, and eventually found him leaning against the back wall. He was talking to a thin girl with big, curly hair. She was smiling and so was he, so Niall didn’t want to bother them. He sighed and thought about finding Louis, but he knew he was probably already drunk and trying to make out with one of the football players. (To be fair, they usually relented to him—not that they would admit to it the next day.)

As he passed, people called out his name, and he waved. They would smile and both would go back to whatever they were doing previously. Niall never understood the “alone in a crowded room” thing until he went to his first party. He was surrounded by people, people he knew and liked, but he felt isolated. There was always this nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him he didn’t belong there. 

Maybe he didn’t, but was that so bad? Was it horrible that instead of drinking and making out, he’d rather be in his room writing a short story about people being at a party and making out? Did that make him “uncool” or “less than” his classmates?

He never answered those questions because he always just went to the parties. He hung back in the crowd, drinking his soda, trying not to look as unhappy as he was just so he could keep his rank. 

*** 

It was nearing one when Niall’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He had moved from the pool area to the home theater that was in the basement. It was one of the only parts of the house that was restricted from party guests. That didn’t extend to Niall though because he wasn’t really a party guest. Louis had given him a key to the room a year ago so he would have some place to go when he got bored. Louis was a really good friend despite all the gossiping he did. 

He pulled the phone from his pocket, figuring it was Liam saying he was ready to go home. Niall was surprised when an unknown number popped up on the screen. He clicked the message. He had to read it twice just to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. It read: “It’s Harry. I need a ride.” He didn’t provide any more information. 

Niall texted him back without any hesitation asking where he was. He bit his lip as he waited for a response. He couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he had won some sort of battle, a small victory. Involuntarily, he started having visions of Harry becoming his friend and…he cut off the thoughts. 

Stop being weird, he scolded himself. He just needs a ride. He tried to believe it, but he couldn’t stop the hope from rising in his chest. Once Harry texted him back, Niall sprang up from his seat and made his way to his car. Luckily, he bumped into Liam on the way out. He explained the situation and told Liam he was leaving and that he should stay the night at Louis’s. 

“You’re just leaving me here?” Liam asked, his speech slurred. Liam didn’t usually drink, but when he did, it didn’t take much to get him drunk. Two drinks, and he couldn’t form sentences. “Just because someone you barely know texted you?”

“Li, it’s not like I’m leaving you at a strangers house,” Niall said. He fidgeted, wanting to leave and get to Harry. “We practically have our own rooms here. If you want, I’ll come and get you after, yeah?”

“No,” Liam said. His face fell. Niall couldn’t tell if it was because Niall was leaving him or because he felt bad for making Niall feel bad. Both were probable. “You go. I’ll just stay here.” 

“Call me if you need me, Li,” Niall said. “You know, I’ll be here if you really need me, ok?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “I’ll call you tomorrow and see you for the game?”

“Of course.” He said a final good-bye to Liam and hopped in his car.

***

Niall typed in the destination into his navigation system even though he knew where he was going. Once the GPS estimated the time it would take him to get there, he texted Harry. Harry responded with a simple “ok.” 

It took Niall less than ten minutes to get to Puzzles, which was a club downtown. Harry was sitting on the curb waiting for him. He was resting his chin in his hands. He looked unhappy, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Niall stopped in front of him and waited for him to get in the car.

Harry stared at the car for a moment. He looked it up and down and chewed on his knuckle as if he were contemplating whether he was really going to get in. Eventually, he got up and ran his hand through his curls and walked to the door. He pulled it open and got in without a word.

“Hello,” Niall said. He got no response. Harry rested his elbow on the door and placed his head in his hand. “Where to?”

“Just keep going straight,” Harry instructed. 

“I have a nav system—“

“I noticed,” Harry said. “Just go straight.” Niall nodded and went straight. 

Harry smelled like beer and cigarettes, and he looked damp. His hair stuck to his forehead. He closed his eyes while Niall drove. Niall knew he should say something considering if they couldn’t go straight forever, and Harry needed to guide him. But his face as relaxed and he looked peaceful, so Niall kept going.

A million questions turned over in Niall’s mind. What was Harry doing at the bar? Had he been drinking? Was he still hurt from the other day? Was he out with someone? He wanted to ask them all, but he didn’t. He knew if he spoke, he would ruin everything. If he kept driving, even if he didn’t know where he was going, he could keep Harry next to him. Maybe it was because he had nice features, or maybe it was because Harry looked so sad all the time, but whatever the reason, Niall just wanted to keep him close.

“Um, Harry?” Niall asked. He spoke slowly, reluctantly. The road would be coming to an end soon; he had held off as long as he could. Harry’s eyes opened and looked at him. Niall expected to see resentment, but he saw nothing, which was worse. “Am I, uh, turning soon or something?”

Harry glanced at the road ahead and nodded. He closed his eyes again. “Two streets. Turn right.” Niall nodded.

“Uh? Harry?” Niall asked again. This time when Harry opened his eyes, he saw annoyance. Niall cursed himself and wished he had kept his mouth shut. “Are you ok?”

“Why do you always ask me that?” Harry asked.

“Because you never look ok.” 

“Well, I am,” Harry said. “So stop asking.” He was silent for a moment then added: “And even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be your business.” 

That cut into Niall. Harry was right; it wasn’t any of Niall’s business. But just that one sentence was enough to tell him that there was something wrong. That was what bothered Niall because all he wanted to do was help him. 

“Harry, I just want to—“

“But you don’t need to,” Harry said. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Niall. His fist clenched and unclenched from its spot on the door. “Because I’m fine. Ever think that maybe I don’t look ‘ok’ because I’m sick of you asking me if I’m ‘ok.’” 

No, obviously, since the only times Niall had ever asked him was when he was crying in the bathroom and when he had to be picked up—without explanation—from a club. A strong hunch told Niall it wasn’t his annoying questions that made Harry not “ok.” 

“Why do you hate me?” he asked before he could think better of it. He was surprised with Harry chuckled. 

“Is it so shocking that someone doesn’t like you?” he asked, his scowl momentarily overtaken by an amused grin. “Are you so used to people kissing your ass that it genuinely bothers you when someone doesn’t want to be your friend?”

“No, I just meant—“

“Look, I don’t know you,” Harry said. “And, no offense, I don’t want to. You and I, we’re different. And if you knew me, you wouldn’t want me to want to be your friend.” 

“You don’t know that,” Niall said.

“Yeah, I do. Stop the car here,” Harry said. They were in front of a park. Niall figured he would be taking Harry home, but apparently he was wrong.

“Harry, are you sure this is safe?” Niall asked. Harry pushed the door open and slid out. He shrugged. “What are you doing here? Can’t I just take you home or something?” 

Harry closed the door behind him and wandered off into the darkness. With every step Harry took from the car, the panic in Niall’s stomach twisted tighter. It was times like these that Niall wished he were braver. If he were braver, he would turn the car off and follow Harry. He would grab his wrist and pull him from whatever bad thing he was walking into.

Instead, put the car in drive and drove straight.


	4. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Niall didn’t tell Liam about the park. 

It felt weird keeping something, even something so small, from his best friend, but he knew that if he told him, Liam would start speculating. It wouldn’t take long for his theories to be overheard and the gossip would start. That was the last thing Niall wanted. He was still determined to win Harry over.

More than determined, actually. 

On his way home that night, he had cursed himself for his cowardice. Visions of Harry alone in the park flashed in his mind: Harry sleeping on a bench, Harry being mugged, Harry being stabbed. The more he thought about it, the more violent the visions became. Needless to say, he didn’t gat much sleep. He had let out a relieved breath when he saw the mess of curls maneuvering down the hall the next day.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for what might have happened. It ate away at him, and he knew the only way to reconcile it with himself was to earn Harry’s trust. Harry needed his help, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it, and Niall was determined to give it to him.

***  
“Niall, where are you going?” Liam asked as they left chemistry. “Maths is this way, you know.”

Niall’s gazed followed Harry down the hall. “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Niall said. “It’s just, um, Harry left something in my car. I have to give it back to him.” 

“Give it to him after school,” Liam said impatiently. “You can’t miss class.” 

“I won’t miss,” Niall promised. “I’ll just be late, yeah?”

“Niall,” Liam said, warningly.

“Liam, please? Just this once? Let me go,” Niall pleaded. 

Liam rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Go. I’ll see you in class.” 

“Yeah, ok.” 

Niall turned and scurried off after Harry before Liam could change his mind. 

*** 

Harry exited out of the backdoor of the school. Niall followed him as he walked around to where the delivers were made behind the lunchroom. Niall slowed his pace; Harry leaned against the wall and slid down it. He dug around his pocket until he pulled out something Niall couldn’t see. It must have been some kind of medication because seconds later, he threw it into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of water. 

Harry hissed as he repositioned himself on the wall, sitting up straighter, his head lulling against the bricks. Niall was closing in on him, but Harry didn’t notice. Harry’s left hand hooked on the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Niall couldn’t contain his gasp. Underneath the garment was a thick line of black-purple bruises down his side and stretching to parts of his chest. 

Harry’s eyes snapped up. He dropped his shirt and his eyes narrowed to slits. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” he yelled. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Niall stammered. His eyes were still glued to Harry’s chest even though the wounded area was covered. “Are you—“

“I swear to fucking god, Horan, if you ask me if I’m ok,” Harry said bitterly. 

Momentarily, Niall was taken aback by the fact that Harry knew his name, but that quickly left his mind when Harry tried to get up, but gasped harshly and plopped back to the ground. Niall rushed to his aid, holding out his hand. Harry glared at him, so he dropped it to his side. 

Niall fell to his knees in front of Harry. “Simon didn’t…do that?” Niall asked, gesturing toward Harry’s torso. “Did he?” The shove into the table hadn’t looked that harsh. Surely, it hadn’t been hard enough to do that. Whatever that was.

“Yeah, some dumbass pushed me into a table and broke two of my ribs,” Harry said sarcastically. 

“Than what—“ Harry cut him off with a sharp glare. Niall nodded, taking the hint. “Have you gone to a doctor?”

“Why? So they can tell me what I already know?” Harry asked. His arm was resting over his ribs protectively like he expected Niall to lunge at him at any moment. 

“Well, yeah,” Niall said. “What if there’s internal bleeding? What if you punctured a lung? And they could give you something for the pain.”

“If I punctured a lung, I would know. And I have the medication covered,” Harry said with a tight smile, patting his pocket. “You helped me with that.” 

“Is that what…?” Niall shook his head and tried to forget that he took Harry to a drug deal. “Harry, I really think you should go to a Doctor…and stop taking illegal drugs! They could prescribe them to you if it’s that bad. I’ll take you.”

“Who cares if they’re prescribed to me or not? They work either way,” Harry said. “I’m not going to the damn doctor, ok? Do you, like, get off on helping people or something?”

Frustration bubbled in Niall’s stomach. He wanted to grab Harry and shake him. He wanted to slap him until Harry accepted his help. That, of course, wouldn’t have helped the situation so he took a deep breath and tried again.

“Why wouldn’t you let me help you?” Niall asked. “I don’t ‘get off’ on it, as you say. I just want you to be ok. And I don’t care if I don’t know you or if you don’t know me. Or if you don’t want to know me. I don’t fucking care. It doesn’t stop the fact that you are a human who is in pain. It doesn’t stop that fact that I am a human, and I want to help you, and I want you to be ok. Not because of who you are just because you’re a human and that’s what people should do, ok? Now, shut up and let me take you to A&E.” 

Harry squinted at him like he did when he was measuring chemicals in the lab last week. Niall sat there nervously while Harry sized him up. “If it makes you stop talking, fine.” 

*** 

“You don’t have to wait with me,” Harry said as they sat in his curtained off space. Niall flipped through a magazine.

“You would just leave if I didn’t,” Niall said in a matter-of-fact tone. He realized after his little rant that the only way to get to Harry was to be blunt. He didn’t respond to Niall’s usual niceties, so he had to borderline rude just to keep the younger boys attention. It was a stretch for him, but he had spent enough time with Louis to be confident he pull it off.

The doctor came in a little while later and told Harry exactly what Harry had told Niall before: he had two broken ribs and no internal bleeding or punctured lung. They left with instructions to put ice on the injury and a prescription for ibprophen. 

“Really? Do they think that’s going to help me?” Harry asked, holding up the piece of paper as they left. He crumbled it and let it fall to the ground. Niall picked it up and put it in his pocket. “I’ve got better drugs in my medicine cabinet at home.” 

“I’m sure you do,” Niall said. “But you shouldn’t be taking them.” 

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“Stop doing stupid things.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’ve pointed that out.”

They stood toe to toe in front of Niall’s car. Neither of them was willing to back down. Harry turned away first.

“I’ll walk home,” he said. 

“Get in the damn car, Styles,” Niall said, pressing the button on his keyring. Harry looked over his shoulder at him. Niall got in the car and slammed the door. He leaned over and opened the passenger side door and waited. Eventually, Harry got in. 

Niall started the car. “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop and get food?” 

“I’m not going to blow you just because you think you helped me,” Harry said. The comment caught Niall off guard. He almost forgot to hit the brakes as they came to a red light. The car stopped in a jerked motion, straining the seat belt against Harry’s waist and making him wince.

“I didn’t…what are you talking—“ Niall’s shock caused his façade to vanish, leaving him tripping over his words once again.

“Please,” Harry said. “Like I can’t see you looking at me. I’m not going to become your boyfriend or fuck buddy—“

“I never said…” The light blinked green, and Niall began down the road again. He was probably not even going the speed limit, but there was no one around and he didn’t care to check.

“What? Did you think that if you took me to the doctor and bought me an ice cream afterward, I’d fall in love with you or something?” Harry asked.

“No, I didn’t…” 

“I’m not a fag like you.” 

The words were like venom and shot right into Niall’s chest. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as white-hot rage pumped through his veins. He slammed on the breaks, pushing Harry into his seat belt again. “Get out,” he said.

“What?” Harry asked. His face scrunched in confusion.

“All I’ve ever been is nice to you,” Niall said as calmly as he could. His hands twisted on the steering wheel. “I know you say you didn’t want it, but I tried to be your friend because I know how much it sucks to be alone. How dare you? How can you even use that word like it’s ok?”

“Ok, I’m sorry. Shit,” Harry said. He sat back in the seat and looked forward, waiting for Niall to continue. He expected Niall to continue. 

“No. Get out,” Niall said. “Catch a cab. Take the tube. Walk. I honestly don’t fucking care anymore. Just get the hell out of my car.” 

“Fine.” Harry set his jaw and opened the door. He grabbed his bag and climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. 

As he drove away, Niall told himself that he didn’t care. That Harry had crossed a line, and he wasn’t worth his time. As he told himself all these things, he watched the curls disappear in his review mirror.


	5. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

“Here’s you homework,” Liam said. He balled the paper up and threw it over to Niall’s station. It hit him in the forehead. “Oh, and thank you so much for answering all my concerned texts earlier. It was really nice of you to stop my worrying like that.” 

It was raining hard outside, and the store was dead. As much as he was trying to push it from his mind, all Niall could think about was leaving Harry earlier. What if he’s still out there? He asked himself. Fuck him, he responded. 

“I’m really sorry, Liam,” Niall said. “It’s just that—“

“It’s Harry, I know,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. “What is your obsession with this kid? Is he really that hot?”

“Why does it always have to go back to his looks?” Niall snapped. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean all I think about is cock.” Liam retracted, and Niall automatically felt bad. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day.” 

“No, I shouldn’t have that. Obviously, you have a good reason to spend so much time on him,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I’m done fighting him,” Niall said. He punched random numbers into the cash register then overrode them. “He wants to be sad and alone. I can’t force him to be my friend.” 

“You’re a good person, Niall,” Liam said. “And you’re the best friend anyone could hope for. He’s stupid to not accept what he’s being offered.” Liam smiled at him; it was the exact same smile that greeted him so many years ago on his lawn. It never changed.

“Thanks, Liam,” he said. “That really means a lot.” 

*** 

The football team had an away game the next day at school, which meant Niall was forced to face his classes alone. Louis walked with him from lunch to his chemistry class; they parted just as the warning bell rang. Niall stared at his feet as he walked to his seat. He didn’t feel like putting on his smile; he wasn’t particularly unhappy, but it felt like too much effort. When he got to his normal table, he was startled when to see Harry sitting in his seat. 

“This is my table,” Niall said. He didn’t raise his voice. It didn’t even tremble. 

Harry stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag full of white pills. He tossed them on the table. Niall’s eyes widened in alarm; he pushed them into the sink before anyone could see. 

“What the hell, Harry?” he whispered harshly. “Are you trying to get us both kicked out?”

“Like dead-eyes up there would even notice,” he said, nodding toward Mr. Marshall. “Listen. I’m sorry, ok? Legitimately. What I said…it was rude. I know you were trying to…help. I’m not used to people being nice to me, ok? I’m sorry.” 

“Ok,” Niall said he sat down beside Harry in Liam’s usual spot. He leaned over the sink and emptied the bag down the drain. He ran the water for good measure. Then he turned back to Harry, who was gazing at the hole like he just lost his favorite pet goldfish. 

“You know, people would be nicer to you if you were more approachable,” Niall said. “Maybe smile or something.” 

“Maybe I just don’t want people to approach me,” he said then he closed his eyes and sighed. His arm took its place protectively across his chest. “Niall, I’m in a lot of pain right now, ok?” he said slowly. “Can you just not?”

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?” Niall asked.

“No.” 

“Figured,” Niall said. “Here.” He pulled a bottle from his bag and slid it over to Harry. “Maybe if you take the maximum dose it’ll help a little.”

Harry picked up the bottle and examined it. “You got my prescription filled? Even after…?”

“There’s a pharmacy in the store,” Niall said with a shrug like it was no big deal. The truth of the matter was he had found the prescription in his pocket when he got into work and had to bribe the pharmacist into filling it. 

“Oh. Thanks,” Harry said. He popped out the bottle and downed four of the pills.

“You’re welcome.” 

*** 

“Did you really get kicked out of your last school?” Niall asked. He was sitting at his desk, tossing a football between his hands. Harry lay on his bed. His hand rested on his chest and his eyes were closed. He breathed evenly and deliberately like every breath hurt. It had taken a little coaxing to get Harry to come over, but he relented to “make Niall stop talking.” Niall was beginning to think that Harry was just using that as excuse to finally accept what was being offered.  
“Is that what people are saying?” he asked. He opened his eyes and turned his head to looked at Niall.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Niall said.

“Yeah, news is usually the clearest once it gets to the top of the pyramid,” Harry said. Niall rolled his eyes. “No. I didn’t.” They were silent for a moment. “How big is this house?”

“Forty thousand square feet if you count the guest house,” Niall said. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry gasped. “And there’s only you and your parents?”

“Sometimes my brother stays in the guest house,” he said. “And Liam has a room that’s basically his.”

“Yeah, that’s not excessive,” Harry said. He rolled his head to stare at the ceiling.

“I don’t know if you know how this friend thing works, but you usually don’t mock the other person’s family and friends,” Niall said. “Not right away at least.” 

“Sorry,” Harry said. His face scrunched up like it so often did, but relaxed a moment later. “I’m a scholarship. My house is probably smaller than your guesthouse. I’m not used to this. Any of this.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” Niall said. Harry looked over and raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean a lot people around here are assholes. Liam and Louis are the only truly decent ones I’ve met, and that’s only because Liam’s family used to be poor, and Louis is poor-rich—“

“What is poor-rich?”

“People who have money, but have to keep working really hard to keep it,” Niall said. “Respectable people. We’re like that, but we don’t have to be.”

“Are you saying rich people are tools?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“I’m saying a lot of the kids who grew up here don’t know anything else,” Niall said. “And they’re nice as long as you’re like them. If they think you’re below them, they’re cunts.”

“But we’re all human, yeah?” He was referencing Niall’s rant the day previous.

“Yeah, we are,” he said. “And just because you have money doesn’t mean you have the right to judge who is better than someone else. It’s really irritating.”

“And these people are your friends?”

“Some of them.” 

Harry closed his eyes again. “You need new friends.”

“I’m trying.” 

*** 

As the night progressed, every movement Harry made was punctuated with a strained gasp. He clutched his ribs and popped the ibprophen like it was candy. Though Harry wasn’t happy about it, Niall helped him sit up so they could eat the pizza Niall had ordered.

“It’s not helping at all?” Niall asked. Harry shrugged and held the pizza up to his face. Niall thought was cute how he stuck his whole tongue out and turned his head slightly to the side before taking a bite.

“It does, but then it doesn’t,” Harry said. “Like it was tolerable earlier, but now—it’s like the first day all over again.” 

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” Niall said.

“Why do people do that? Apologize for something they didn’t do?” Harry asked before taking another bite. “It’s not like you stomped on my ribs until they snapped.”

“Is that what happened?” Niall asked carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s just a scenario,” he said. 

“I don’t know why people do it,” Niall said. “I do it because I feel bad. I feel bad that you’re in pain.”

“So you feel sorry for me?”

“Yes,” Niall said. Harry stared at his hands. “But only because you’re in pain.” 

Harry nodded and flinched as he sunk back on the bed. He ran his hand through his curls and let them fall on the pillow underneath him. He coughed roughly, pain contorting his face as he did so. Niall looked down on him and thought about how drugged up he must have been to stay in school with a straight face all that time. His own side arched when he thought of what it must have felt like to be pushed against the table.

Niall closed the pizza box and trekked down to the kitchen. He filled a large bag full of ice and wrapped it in a towel from the linen closet. 

“Take your shirt off,” he said when he walked back into the room. Harry propped himself up on his elbows and eyed him quizzically. “Don’t worry. I don’t have some elaborate sexual fantasy that involves staring at your bruised body.” 

“I didn’t think…”

“I know,” Niall said with a small smile. “I’m allowed to joke about my sexuality.” 

Harry sat up as much as he could and pulled his shirt off then laid back down. Niall sat at his side and pressed the homemade ice pack to his body. He gasped. 

“Sorry,” Niall said. He held the bundle more loosely, and Harry relaxed. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah, a little,” Harry said. Niall repositioned himself and cradled the ice against Harry’s body, careful to concentrate on the darker areas. 

“So, you are then?” Harry asked. “Gay, I mean?”

“I am.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I mean, I assumed…”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Niall said. “But if you use that word, I’ll never speak to you again.” 

“I won’t,” Harry said. He shifted slightly under the ice pack, glancing from Niall’s hands to his face then back again. “Do your parents know?”

“Yes.”

“What do they think?” His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed to a squint. Niall focused on the ice pack in his hands; he felt like he was being questioned for an experiment Harry was conducting, like his answer held some baring on Harry’s life.

“We don’t talk about it,” Niall said shortly, not mentioning the fact that his father rarely met his eyes anymore. “I think they want to ignore it. That word is my brother’s favorite. It’s vile.” Niall shifted his hands. The ice in the bag rearranged with the movement, making clunking noises while they slid. “Are you the only one allowed to ask personal questions?”

“Tonight? Yes.” 

“What about tomorrow?” Niall asked hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “If you asked me yesterday if I thought I’d be laying in your bed while you held an ice pack to my side, I would have said no.” 

“So…?”

“So ask me again tomorrow.” 

“Ok.”


	6. Falling In, Falling Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

“Harry!” Niall waved Harry over from his table. Harry stopped, mid-step, and stared at him. Niall kept waving. He ignored the look he was getting from Liam that said something along the lines of: what are you doing? Cautiously, Harry approached the table and sat down in the empty seat Niall had pulled up. He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. 

“Do you want to trade places so you can lean against the wall?” Niall asked, knowing the slouching made him hurt more. Harry’s eyes darted from Niall to Liam then to the ground; he nodded. Without a word, Harry and Niall switched seats. Harry scooted back until he could sit straight against the wall. Pain was still visible in his eyes, but he looked less uncomfortable. 

Liam watched the interaction without question. He did, however, continue to give Harry a careful, slightly confused looked. It was the same look that was on his face when Harry walked out of Niall’s house that morning after falling asleep in his bed with Niall still holding the ice to his side. It was the same look Liam gave Niall when he said he wanted to go look for Harry before taking their seats in the lunchroom. 

“We looked for you at lunch,” Niall said. The rest of the class was pouring in as the warning bell rang.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Am I going to be continually explaining this friendship thing to you?” Niall asked, rolling his eyes. 

“But I’m not their friend,” Harry said. His eyes flicked to Liam, but only briefly. Liam didn’t notice because he was busying himself with his notebook while the two spoke.

Niall was going to respond, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the lights dimmed and Mr. Marshall put on a movie that seemed to have nothing to do with chemistry. Harry glanced at the screen and rolled his eyes. Slowly, he bent down, clutching his side as he did, and grabbed his backpack. He pulled out his book and notebook and flipped to a clean page.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked as he watched him scribble on the page. Niall would have guessed that Harry’s writing would look like chicken scratch, but it was loopy and kind of nice. 

“The homework,” Harry said without looking up.

“But he doesn’t grade it,” Liam said. “I wrote lyrics to songs on the last one. Got an A.”

“I like chemistry,” Harry said simply. 

“So you’re doing it for fun?” Liam asked, mildly horrified. Harry shrugged and continued writing. 

Niall glanced over Harry’s shoulder. All the letter and formulas still looked foreign to him, but Harry moved through them with ease. Every once in a while, he would stop and his face would twist with concentration. His left index finger and thumb pulled on his bottom lip as he stared at the page. Even though it was dark, Niall was convinced he saw a spark of satisfaction whenever Harry’s hand dropped from his face, and he finished the problem.

“I don’t work today,” Niall said to Harry as they left the classroom. “Do you want to come over to mine or do something?”

“I’m not good at doing things; I can barely move,” Harry reminded him.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Niall said. 

“Won’t your parents be worried that you’re brining the slums into your house so often?” Harry asked. 

“You’re not a slum,” Niall said. “And they wouldn’t care if you were. Plus, do you remember seeing my parents at all last night? They’re out a lot and even when they’re not, the house is so big I rarely see them.” 

“Are you trying to make me feel bad for you, rich boy?” Harry said. Although his face was blank, Niall was fairly certain he was joking with him. Niall fought the smile that tried to make its way to his lips.

“Is it working?” he asked.

“I’ll meet you at your car, I guess.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Liam was leaning against the door behind Niall, waiting for him to finish his conversation. When Harry walked away, they started to make their way to maths. 

“What’s with you and him?” Liam asked. He gripped his backpack with one hand at his side; the bottom scrapped the floor every other step. 

“We’re just friends,” Niall said with a shrug. 

“Really? He doesn’t seem like…the friend type,” Liam said carefully. 

“He’s just…difficult,” Niall said. “He’s really guarded, but he’s not a bad person. He just needs a friend.”

“And you’ve taken it upon yourself?”

“You don’t even know him, Liam,” Niall said as they entered the classroom. “Why don’t you come hang out with us today after school?”

“I have practice,” Liam said.

“After that.”

“Work.” 

Liam didn’t work on Fridays. Niall stared at him.

“You never lie to me,” he said. Liam blushed, and Niall could practically see him cursing himself for forgetting that Niall owned the store. “Liam?”

“I don’t like you hanging out with him, ok?” Liam said quickly. He slipped into his desk and turned toward Niall. “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t know—“

“Neither do you, Niall!” Liam said. “One sleep over does not make you two best friends!”

“Of course not,” Niall said. “You’re my best friend.” He hadn’t meant to hurt Liam, but by the look on his face, he could see that he did. 

“If I was your best friend, you wouldn’t keep ditching me for him,” he said.

“It was only two times, Liam,” Niall said. “Two times in our whole friendship. And he needed me. He’s…he’s just going through some stuff right now. He needs a friend, and I’m his only one.” 

“Niall, I love you,” Liam said. “You’re my best friend, but you’re too good. You can’t help everyone. Especially not someone like him.”

“What does that mean? ‘Some one like him’?” Niall asked, even though he was fairly certain he knew exactly what he meant.

“He’s not from…our world, Niall,” Liam said. He stared down at his notebook as he spoke. He was clearly ashamed of the words coming from his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from saying them or thinking they were true.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were just like them,” Niall spat. “So he’s on scholarship. You know what that tells me? Not that he doesn’t have money. Not that those of us who pay are ‘better than him.’ It tells me he’s a hell of a lot smarter than anyone here.” He paused to calm his breathing. “I thought we were supposed to be different, Liam.”

“Niall, having money and not taking it for granted is one thing, but you can’t pretend like he would fit in with our friends,” Liam said. The final bell rang and class was about to start.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Niall whispered as the teacher started lecturing. “Our friends are assholes.” 

“I’m an asshole?”

“You’re sure acting like one right now,” Niall said. He turned his attention to the board and crossed his arms over his chest. It sounded like Liam scoffed, but he couldn’t be sure.

“He must be hung to have you whipped after one night,” Liam said. Niall stared at him in disbelief. Liam’s normally warm chocolate eyes were hollow as they looked into Niall’s. Niall didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry.

“Mr. Horan? Mr. Payne?” Mrs. Riley said from the front. “Am I interrupting you? Should I stop until you’re done?” 

“No, Mrs. Riley,” Niall said, his eyes locked on Liam’s still. “We’re done.” 

*** 

Niall drove with one hand on the steering wheel; his other hand was bent and holding his chin. His fight with Liam played over and over in his head. He didn’t know how to fight with Liam because they never really did it. There were arguments, of course, but he had never seen Liam look so cold and say such nasty things. Liam never thought he was better than anyone because of his status, and he never used Niall’s sexuality against him. 

Niall just couldn’t understand. Ok. He had left Liam at the party, but it was at one of their best friend’s house. The second time he “ditched” him was at school, and he apologized later. Did he really feel that threatened by Harry? Was he supposed to have no other friends? Or was he allowed to have friends as long as they were shallow and had trust funds?

Niall drove too fast and hit the brakes too hard. He was more careful after Harry groaned as the seatbelt dug into his chest.

“Sorry,” Niall said quietly. Harry pulled on the seat belt and repositioned himself.

“Are you ok?” he asked. Niall couldn’t help but laugh at the question. “What?”

“I’m supposed to ask you that, remember?” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m as ok as I’m going to get, and you don’t look ok,” Harry said. 

“I had a fight with Liam,” Niall said, not willing to give any more information. “I’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.” 

*** 

Later that night, after Niall had come upstairs with an ice pack for his side, Harry asked: “Was it because of me?”

Niall glanced up at him. “What are you talking about?” He grabbed two of the useless throw pillows his mother insisted on him having and positioned them to hold the ice in the right spot, and then he sat cross-legged facing Harry.

“Your fight with Liam,” he said. “Were you fighting because of me?”

“What makes you think that?” Niall asked. He laced his fingers together then unlaced them and placed them on his knees.

“I can see the way he was looking at me all day,” Harry said. “He doesn’t like me.”  
He didn’t sound sad. He was resigned to the fact that Liam wasn’t his biggest fan. He closed his eyes and waited for Niall to respond.

“It was about you,” Niall said. There was no point in lying when Harry could see the truth. “Well, it started off as being about you then turned into being about him and me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He just said some things,” Niall said. After all the time he spent trying to convince Harry that he and Liam weren’t like the other assholes at the school, se didn’t want to explicitly say that it was Harry’s economical status. “Things I never thought he would say.”

“Like what?”

“Like you must be really hung to have me so whipped already,” Niall said. He was surprised with Harry laughed. 

It was the first time he heard Harry genuinely laugh; it was like hearing music for the first time. It filled the room. His eyes were squeezed closed, and his smile took up his whole face. When his eyes opened, they were full of joy. Niall smiled despite himself.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I know you’re upset, but that’s just…really funny. I would imagine something like that coming from Liam’s mouth. He looks like a puppy.” 

“He kind of does,” Niall said, tilting his head to the side as he imagined his best friend. Ex-best friend? His smile faded. “Anyway, he’s never, like, used my sexuality against me like that. He’s just…I don’t know. He’s not usually like this.”

“What’s he like then?”

Niall didn’t want to talk about Liam anymore. It felt like a dull knife to the chest whenever his face popped into his head. “I thought I got to ask the questions tonight.” 

“I never said that,” Harry said. There was still a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it was fading quickly. “I said you could ask if you can ask questions.”

“Why do you like chemistry?” Niall asked. He wasn’t going to play into Harry’s game and ask for permission. He figured if he started with something easy, Harry would warm up to the idea of letting Niall in.

“I don’t know,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ve always liked science. I like chemistry because it’s kind of everything. It’s a little of biology and math. And everything is like a big puzzle to figure out and contort into what you want it to be. There are things that are concrete, but you can change them. You can make them into something better if you have the patience.” 

His eyes seemed to wander off as he spoke about it. Niall couldn’t grasp the science part of it, but he understood the concept. He got the same look in his eye when he tried to explain to someone why he loved to write and read. It was passion. 

“Exactly how smart are you, Styles?” 

“Pretty damn smart,” he said with a smug grin. 

“Why were at Puzzles the other day?” he asked the question slowly, not sure how Harry would react. Harry just shrugged.

“I needed money so I went to borrow some from my sister,” Harry said. “She works there.”

“Like a bartender?”

“Like a dancer.”

“A stripper?”

“Don’t call my sister a stripper,” Harry said defensively. “Of course, she’s not a fucking stripper. She dances, but she keeps her clothes on.”

“Sorry,” Niall said. So Harry had a sister. The mention of the girl was the only time Harry ever said anything about his family. Niall bit his lip. “What’s your family like?”  
He could see it. The wall that had started to crumble was instantly repaired.

Harry closed his eyes. “I’m done answering questions.” 

Niall sighed, but didn’t fight him. He laid down at Harry’s side and pulled his phone out. He half expected to see a text from Liam, but the screen was blank.

*** 

For the first time in years, Niall did not go to Louis’s house on Saturday. He sat in his room with Harry. Both of them were silent for the most part; Harry worked on chemistry homework that wasn’t even assigned, and Niall sat at his desk writing a story about a guarded young man. 

It wasn’t until his eyes were drifting closed that Niall realized that no one had even texted him to see where he was. They hadn’t missed him. He turned onto his side. He could vaguely make out Harry’s sleeping figure on the far side of the bed, his chest rising and falling evenly. 

He closed his eyes. He hadn’t missed them either.


	7. Crossing the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Harry liked to sleep. That was one of the first things Niall noticed as Harry spent more and more time at his house. Even when they were talking, his eyes would slip closed, and he would fall silent for a few minutes before opening them again and continuing the conversation. Niall thought it was just because of his injury, but as they moved into the second week of his stay, and the bruise lightened from black to dark yellow, he still kept his eyes closed.

Harry went home a total of three times in the two-week span, and that was only to get clothes. He went when Niall was working. Niall wasn’t sure how he got there because he would leave with Harry in his room, and the younger boy would show up at the store just before closing and slide onto his counter. 

Niall never asked him why he didn’t go home more often. There were two reasons for that: for one he knew that Harry didn’t like talking about his family. They had gotten to the point where it was easy to make conversation. They talked about writing and chemistry, and Niall’s family. They talked about Harry’s old school and how much he hated it. They could talk about pretty much anything, but the moment his family was brought up, Harry shut down.

The second reason was simpler: Niall liked having Harry around. Despite his moodiness, Niall liked being with Harry. Though they came from such different places, he felt like they had a lot in common. It was nice to talk to someone about his stories and not have them scoff. It was nice to watch stupid movies and eat pizza without worrying when the next party was. It was nice to see Harry smile, which was still rare, but it’s rarity only made it that much more special. When he was with Harry, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone.

He didn’t tell Harry this though. Niall could tell that under his tough exterior, there was someone kind and loving. He could see it in the way Harry would look at him when he talked about how lonely he felt his whole life. He could see it when he told Harry how he was scared to tell his dad about changing his major. He could see it; it was there, but Harry didn’t know how to express it. 

*** 

Harry sat up with relative ease and pulled off his shirt. Niall sat by him and examined his side. He poked gently at the yellowing skin. Harry barely flinched. “I think you’re going to live, Harry,” Niall said, setting the ice down. 

“Good,” Harry said. “Maybe I’ll be discharged soon.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Niall said, rolling his eyes. “This is the nicest hospital you’ve ever stayed at.” He got up from the bed and walked over to his bookshelf, which encompassed his whole wall. He skimmed the spines for something to read.

“I have to admit, the food’s good,” Harry said. “And the nurse is cute.” 

Niall froze, his thumb on his worn copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. He swallowed hard to drown the butterflies in his stomach and steadied his breathing. He reminded himself that Harry was probably joking. 

“I try,” Niall said.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself. I was talking about your mom, Horan,” Harry said. Niall whipped around and saw the sly smile on Harry’s face.

“You’re disgusting.” The butterflies stopped flying.

Harry laughed.

“I don’t think my mom has been nearly as attentive to your wounds as I have been,” Niall said, flopping back down on the bed with his book.

“She did make me soup the other day while you were at work,” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, you’re right—“ He stopped his sentence short as a picture of him and Liam fell from the book. He had forgotten he had used it as a bookmark. It was an older picture from about two years ago. The boys stood with their arms around each other, smiling at the camera with the lake behind them. 

Harry picked it up. His eyes squinted as he looked at it. “Your hair looked terrible,” he said. He was right. The picture was taken during Niall’s long hair phase. “Do you miss him?”

It was loaded question. Niall and Liam hadn’t talked since their fight in maths. Niall sat with Harry during lunch and chemistry, and Liam had his schedule at work changed. He did miss Liam. He missed his smile and the way he got angry at football games. He missed the way Liam always went out of his way to make him feel good. 

“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it much,” Niall said. It wasn’t a lie. There were few times in the hall that he caught Liam’s eye, and Liam looked away quickly, and that hurt, but for the most part, he pushed the whole event from his mind. 

“Because I keep you so entertained?” Harry asked.

“Yup.”

“We literally do nothing all day.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point, but you’re nice to look at,” Niall said. Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t acknowledge the comment. Niall wasn’t sure if it was ok for him to say things like that yet. He knew he could with Liam, but it was difficult to gauge Harry’s reaction. 

“I should probably go home tomorrow,” Harry said. Niall’s heart sunk. He had crossed the line. Pushed Harry away. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t know how Harry would react. He should have thought more before he spoke. Now, he had freaked him out, and he would have no friends come Monday. 

“Sick of me already?” Niall said as way of a feeble joke. 

“No…I mean, It’s just…my dad’s been texting me the past couple days,” Harry said. Harry’s confidence never waivered until he talked about his dad. Usually, he wore a stone expression or a smug smirk as he joked with Niall, but when he talked about his dad, he averted his eyes and his face fell. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have taken you home,” Niall said.

“Because I didn’t want to go.” 

*** 

“Just tell me where you live, Harry. I’m not making you walk.” It had been difficult enough convincing Harry to let him drive him home, but Harry insisted he be dropped off at the park near his house instead of at his actual house. 

“It’s literally a three minute walk, Niall,” Harry insisted.

“Last time I left you at a park, you bought drugs,” Niall pointed out.  
“I’m broke.” 

“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” Once again, he spoke before thinking. He knew Harry didn’t live in Niall’s part of town—that much was clear. And the closer they got to Harry’s area, the more obvious it was. Niall tried not to show it, but it scared him. The kids on the sidewalk looked angry, eyeing his expensive car with distaste. The houses were unkempt, and the park didn’t look fit for children. 

“No, I’m not embarrassed,” Harry said firmly. “Please? Just do this one thing, ok? You can watch me walk away so you know I’m not doing anything wrong. Please?”

It wasn’t like Harry to plead, so he agreed. Niall stopped his car and put it in park. “I’m not working tonight, so if you need anything—“

“I know,” Harry said. He gripped the door handle and stared blankly out of the windshield. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Harry nodded and got out of the car. As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and waved. It took Niall a few minutes after Harry disappeared to actually leave because he kept hearing his words playing in his head. 

He hadn’t sounded like he planned on talking to Niall later at all.

*** 

Niall’s mom asked where Harry was when he got home. He shrugged and told her that he went home. 

“Such a shame,” she said. “He’s such a nice boy. And you’re happy when he’s around.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back, Mom,” Niall said even though he wasn’t so sure. 

The whole way home, he kept thinking about why Harry sounded the way he did, why he looked so sad, why he looked almost scared. Niall wondered if it was him. Maybe his comment about Harry’s looks really had bothered him. Maybe he felt uncomfortable and had to leave. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to Niall ever again and he looked so upset because he was losing a friend. The last part is what told Niall he was being ridiculous because Harry wasn’t the kind to care if he was the one ending the friendship. 

Then he remembered what Harry said the day before about not wanting to go home. It had to be that. But that only brought up more questions. Why didn’t he want to be there? What went on when the doors closed?

Niall got his answer at midnight when his phone rang, and Harry’s number popped up.

“Niall?” It sounded like he was crying, or at least upset. Niall was snapped out of whatever haphazard sleep he was in. He had found it difficult to get comfortable that night. He had gotten used to Harry’s weight on the bed next to him, and it was hard to adjust to it not being there.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, already pulling on his jeans and grabbing his keys.

“I just…I need you,” Harry stammered. The wind blew harsh, causing a static-like sound to fill his ear. 

“Where are you?” He scribbled a note by the door for his parents, though it was unlikely they would see it. 

“Park. By my house. Hurry, ok?” Niall had never heard Harry sound so desperate, so fragile. It chilled him to the bone.

Harry’s house was twenty minutes from Niall’s. 

“I’ll be there in ten.”


	8. Pulling Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

October in London is cold. It’s not cold enough to snow, but it’s cold enough to at least be wearing a jacket when you’re outside. The nights usually drop to near freezing, but never quite get there. That was the worst kind of weather in Niall’s opinion. It was too inconsistent to him.

When he pulled up to the park, Harry was sitting on the bench near the front. He was bent over and holding his arm to his bare chest. Niall stopped the car and rushed over to him. He was barely processing his actions as took his jacket off and draped it over Harry’s shoulders. Harry pulled away from the contact, but relaxed when he saw it was only Niall. Harry’s shirt was wrapped around the arm he was clutching to his chest. He was shivering. 

Niall wasn’t going to panic. Harry was looking up at him, expectantly, with sad eyes. All Niall wanted to do was hold him, but blood was seeping through Harry’s shirt and staining his chest. 

“Come on, Har,” Niall said gently. He helped Harry up, and into the car. He turned the heat up and turned on the seat warmers. “What happened, Harry?”

“I t-think I need to go to the hospital,” Harry said, his whole body shook with cold. Niall could tell how hard he was trying to stop shivering, to steady this voice. He hated coming off as weak. “I’m bleeding a-a lot. Don’t w-want to get it on your seats.” He smiled weakly.

“It’s leather,” Niall said as he pulled away. “It’ll wipe off.” 

*** 

Once the nurse at reception saw how deep the gash was in Harry’s arm, they were taken back immediately. She sloppily dressed the wound and discarded Harry’s soiled shirt. She told them the doctor would be in soon, and Niall asked for another blanket. Harry had Niall’s jacket on, the sleeve pushed to the elbow of his injured left arm, but he was still shaking. Harry didn’t even protest as Niall spread the blanket over him.

Harry lay in the bed; it was raised so he was sitting up. He stared at the wall in front of him. Though he was trying to keep a straight face, every few seconds, his lips would quiver. If he closed his eyes, tears slid onto his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away. Niall pretended not to notice.

He had never seen Harry like this. His green eyes were dead, which was something Niall hadn’t seen in weeks. That’s not to say they were always full of joy (they were rarely full of joy), but at least they were alive. There was a bruise forming on the side of his jaw. He looked fragile. The Harry Niall knew wasn’t fragile. He was impenetrable. He was hard and guarded. 

He wanted to say something to him. He wanted to ask what happened. He wanted Harry to tell him everything so he could tell him it would be ok. He wanted to touch his face, to share his warmth. He wanted to do anything, everything, to make him ok, to see his eyes alive again. 

Niall was about to say something when the curtain was pushed to the side. A doctor, who looked too young to be a doctor, came in. He was flipping through Harry’s chart and sat down on the stool. 

“Looks like you say a nasty cut,” the doctor said with a smile. Both Harry and Niall looked at him with un-amused expressions. “And this is your second visit to us in the past three weeks?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply.

The doctor looked between Harry and Niall then back to the chart. “Would you mind giving us a second?” the doctor asked Niall. Niall looked at Harry. “It’ll just be two seconds. Just right outside the curtain.”

Niall stepped out only to be brought back in moments later. “Well, I’ll just get this stitched up so we can get you out of here, yeah?” the doctor said brightly.

Niall took his place back at Harry’s side and watched the doctor lay out his tools. He turned away when he removed the dressing from Harry’s arm. He wasn’t the kind of person who got squeamish at the sight of blood, but when it was coming from Harry, it was different. 

Harry nudged Niall in the shoulder; Niall looked at him. Harry was holding out his hand. His eyes flicked from his cut back to Niall; he spread out his fingers. Niall took the hint and hooked his thumb with Harry’s and gripped his hand. Harry’s long fingers wrapped around the back of Niall’s hand. Just as he imagined, Harry’s hand made his look tiny. 

“I’m just going to give you something to numb the area,” the doctor said.

As the needle sunk into Harry’s arms, his grip tightened on Niall’s hand and his eyes closed. Niall wanted to soothe him, but talking to him in front of the doctor felt wrong, so he rubbed Harry’s arm with his free hand and hoped it would help. 

Time passed slowly as Harry was getting put back together. Niall found the courage to watch the doctor. With every pull, Harry’s skin came together to create a thin, slightly crooked line. After what felt like hours, but was really minutes, the doctor dressed the wound and left. 

Niall and Harry remained silent, clutching each other’s hands.

*** 

It was nearing five-thirty when Niall pulled his car into his driveway. Neither him nor Harry said much after the doctor left or on the way home. They were both tired; Harry more so than Niall.

Niall’s parents were on the porch watching their things get loaded into a taxi when they pulled in. “Pull your sleeve down,” Niall said to Harry, who obeyed before getting out of the car.

“Niall! Oh, and Harry! Hi, boys!” his mother greeted cheerfully. She didn’t even acknowledge that her son and his friend were getting home at five in the morning looking run down as hell. Sometimes Niall thought it sucked having parents who were hardly present; other times, it was a blessing.

“Hello, Mrs. Horan,” Harry said politely. “Mr. Horan.” Niall’s dad nodded.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mrs. Horan said t Harry. “I was worried about having Niall alone in the house all week. We’re leaving for France. It’s our anniversary.”

“That sounds nice,” Harry said with a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him safe.” 

A few more pleasantries were exchanged then hugs between Niall and his parents before the boys watched Niall’s parents drive off to their vacation. Niall led the way inside and up to his room where Harry collapsed on the bed. He didn’t close his eyes as Niall expected him to. He sat at Harry’s side. 

“I know you’re tired,” Niall began. “But…what happened, Harry? You have to talk to me. I know you don’t want to, but you have to. It’s just me. You can trust me. You should know that by now.” 

Harry was lying on his side, his injured arm bent upward. “Can you lay down?” he asked. Niall nodded and slid down next to him. Their eyes locked.

Niall waited for Harry to continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached out with his uninjured hand and gently touched Niall’s cheek. Niall kept his eyes on Harry; Harry’s eyes followed his fingers down Niall’s cheek and across his jaw. They curled around the back of Niall’s neck and rested there. His eyes moved back up to meet Niall’s. Harry scooted closer, and Niall held his breath. 

Harry’s eyes were stayed on Niall’s until the last possible second. They closed just as he pressed his lips to Niall’s. After the briefest moment of shock, Niall pressed back. Niall hadn’t realized how much he wanted it until it was happening. He had suppressed his feelings for the younger man so he wouldn’t jeopardize their friendship, but now, with their lips mingling, he knew he wanted nothing else. 

Harry’s lips were chapped from the cold, rough against Niall’s soft ones, but it felt better than anything Niall had experienced before. He tasted bitter in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant; Niall wouldn’t have expected Harry to taste any other way. His hand gripped Harry’s wrist. He felt empty when Harry pulled away. 

Harry stared at him for a second then released his grip from Niall’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said. He averted his eyes.

“Don’t be,” Niall said. He lifted Harry’s head then stroked his cheek. The movement was still tentative, still shaky. Harry leaned into his touch. “Talk to me.” 

Harry opened his eyes. “My dad doesn’t like gay people.” 

*** 

Harry’s mom died when he was twelve. It was a car accident. She was on her way back from work when a truck ran a stop sign and smashed into the side of her car. She was dead before the cops got to the scene. Harry cried for days; his sister held him, but it didn’t do any good. 

When the family cleared out after the funeral, Harry and his sister were put on a train and sent to London. That’s when Harry cried the most. He knew was waiting for them on the other end. He remembered, if only vaguely, the fights that had went on until late in the night. He remembered the constant smell of stale vodka.

He remembered his dad.

*** 

Gemma took the brunt of abuse even when Harry threw himself in front of her. His father would push him to the floor and continue on. “I ain’t got no problem with you, boy,” he would say. Harry got good grades. He was quiet. He kept the house clean. Gemma was the problem, the one who rebelled. Harry always pleaded with her.

“You just gotta try,” he said in this tiny voice while dabbing at her swollen eye. “I can do your homework if you want. You just gotta try, Gem.” 

“I’ll try for you, Harry,” she always said. “Not for him. He’s a piece of shit. Don’t ever do anything just because he wants you to.” 

Harry nodded. Gemma did try, for a little while at least, then she would piss him off against, and he would refresh the marks on her body. Eventually, Harry gave up on trying to reason with her. Instead, he gently cleaned her cuts.

*** 

When Harry was thirteen and had been living with his father a year, he made a friend.  
His name was Kyle, and Harry thought he had a nice smile. Kyle liked Harry’s curls. 

Their first kiss was behind the school, and their second at the movies when Kyle got scared, and Harry wanted to make him feel better. He didn’t know what number it was, but their last kiss was at Harry’s house. They were on his bed, holding hands. Just as their lips came together, Harry’s dad came in looking for his screwdriver. He stopped mid-sentence and looked at the embracing boys, who quickly jumped away from each other.

Harry’s dad sent Kyle home. 

Gemma never got hit again. 

*** 

“Oh, Harry.” Niall touched Harry’s face, wanting nothing more than to pull him close and hold him. Harry pulled away.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t pity me.” 

“I don’t pity you; I care about you,” Niall said, turning Harry’s face back to him. “Despite what you believe, there is a difference. I’m just so sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve it at all.”

“How do you know?” Tears welled in Harry’s eyes despite how hard he was fighting them. Niall cupped his face and wiped away the tears that fell.

“You’re smart, and funny,” Niall said. “You’re an amazing listener, and I can tell that you care even if you don’t know how to show it. And you’re gorgeous, Harry. Absolutely gorgeous. You don’t deserve to be…treated this way because you’re gay. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t make you evil. It doesn’t define you in any way, shape, or form.”

“Then why does he hate me so much because of it?” Harry asked, his voice so desperate that Niall thought that he might start crying as well. He scooted a little closer to Harry so their noses were almost touching.

“Because he’s stupid, Harry,” Niall said. “He’s the worst kind of person. He doesn’t deserve to be called your dad. He’s…nothing. And you never have to go back there. Ever.” 

“Where am I going to go?”

“Nowhere,” Niall said. “You’re going to stay right here. With me.” 

“But your parents…”

Niall pressed his lips to Harry’s. He wasn’t sure if it was ok, but he did it anyway. Eventually, Harry’s lips moved against his. He was still crying--Niall could taste it-- but Harry clung to him like he didn’t want him to stop, like he didn’t want him to let go.

So he didn’t.

*** 

Harry slept soundly, his head resting on Niall’s bicep with his arms pulled to his chest. Niall’s arm fell asleep soon after Harry did, but Niall didn’t have the heart to move him. Instead, he watched him sleep. With his free hand, he gently ran his hand through his curls like he had wanted to do so many times. 

When he slept, he looked peaceful. He looked like a normal boy who hadn’t gone through so much hell, who wasn’t ashamed of who he was, who didn’t live in almost constant fear that made him bitter to everyone around him. 

Niall raised his sleeping arm, shifting Harry’s head onto his shoulder. Harry readjusted, cuddling into the crook of Niall’s neck. Niall wrapped his other arm around Harry’s waist and kissed his forehead. 

Niall didn’t know how to fix him, but he would try. He couldn’t take back what had happened to him, but he could ensure that it never happened again.


	9. Breakfast At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Niall jumped back from the grease popping out of the pan. He cursed under his breath and used the tongs to flip the bacon. It was close to seven in the evening, but breakfast was the one thing Niall could cook without fail. Everything else usually went horribly wrong. He checked the bottoms of the pancakes and when he looked up, Harry was standing next to him.

“Good morning!” Niall said cheerfully. “I’m making breakfast.”

“It’s dinner time,” Harry said, his brows coming together. Niall had to resist the urge to kiss his scrunched nose because he was pretty sure it was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his lif.

“I know,” Niall said. “But it’s never too late for pancakes!” He smiled brightly, but Harry’s expression didn’t change. Niall tried not to look as disappointed as he felt. He knew Harry was going through a lot, but they kissed. A lot. And Harry had fallen asleep in his arms. He thought that just maybe he was going to be able to make Harry happy even if just for a second.

His dad slashed his arm open less than twenty-four hours ago, Niall reminded himself. Give him some time.

“Do you have ibprophen or something?” Harry asked. “My arm hurts.” 

“Yeah, give me two seconds, ok?” Harry nodded and leaned against the counter. He watched as Niall slid the perfectly browned pancakes off the griddle and onto the plate. Niall moved the bacon to the back burner and turned off the stove.

“You can sit,” Niall said, gesturing to the breakfast nook. “I’ll get you the pills and make you a plate.” 

Harry nodded and moved over to the table. Niall scurried around gathering what he needed. He went to the bathroom first and brought back a bottle of pills and set them down in front of Harry along with a glass of juice. He split the food evenly onto two plates and took them to the table.

“Do you need syrup?” he asked.

“No, I don’t like it,” Harry said. He picked up his fork and started working the butter over the cakes.

“Me either,” Niall said. “The smell makes me sick.” 

After that, the table got quiet. Harry’s injured arm was hidden under the table while he ate. He methodically cut his pancakes four times horizontally and four times vertically, and he wouldn’t pick up the bacon with his hands. When he was done, he pushed his plate away and waited for Niall to finish.

The quiet was unnerving. Before they were friends, it was quiet. Niall used to be able to feel the tension between them, but he could tolerate it. When they became friends, it was quiet. It was a comfortable quiet though that made Niall feel secure. This was just silence. Harry didn’t look at him. He didn’t speak. It left Niall feeling, as always, like he had done something to offend him. 

He took his and Harry’s plates to the kitchen and began rinsing them off. Harry hopped on the counter next to him with some extra effort because of his injuries. His feet kicked the counter gently as he watched Niall place the dishes in the washer.

“I’m not good at this,” Harry said when Niall closed the door. “I mean, I’ve never done it before, so I don’t know if I’m good at this, but I don’t think I would be.”

“What are you talking about?” Niall leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Being in a relationship,” Harry said. His cheeks pinkened as he said the words. Niall’s heart leapt.

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. He wanted to make sure nothing was vague. He needed to know for sure.

“I, uh, I mean…I just thought…”

Niall smiled. He never thought he’d see the day when Harry Styles blushed and fumbled over his words. He never thought he’d be the cause of it.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Harry?” he said with a sly smile, happy to have the upper hand for once. He hopped onto the counter next to Harry.

“I’m difficult,” Harry said, pushing his hand a little closer to Niall’s.

“No shit,” Niall said with a small smile. The side of his hand pressed against Harry’s.

“Damaged.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, hooking his little finger over Harry’s.

“I can’t take you out,” Harry continued. He wouldn’t look at Niall; he, instead focused on their hooked finger. “Or buy you nice things. I’m never going to live in a house like this—even if I ever have the money.”

“You’re still pretty hot, though.” Niall shrugged and smiled when Harry finally looked up at him.

“You could do better.” 

“I could do worse.” 

The corners of Harry’s mouth tugged upward then fell again. He scooted over on the counter until his shoulder was against Niall’s. Hesitantly, Niall leaned over and kissed his cheek. Blood rushed to the spot where Niall’s lips had been, and Harry turned away.

“Ok,” he said.

*** 

Niall sat crossed legged on his bed. Harry’s head was resting in his lap, and his eyes were closed as usual. Niall mindlessly ran his fingers through his hair. It was hard to believe that less than a month ago, Harry hated him. He had to remind himself that wasn’t really Harry; the person he had met, who was so full of hate, was nothing like the person who listened patiently whenever Niall spoke or sometimes whimpered in his sleep. Niall felt privileged that he got to see the real Harry. 

“Why do you sleep so much?” Niall asked as he looked down on Harry. Harry opened his eyes briefly but closed them again.

“I think I’ve looked pathetic enough for one day, so I’m not going to answer that,” Harry said. Niall stopped moving his hands through Harry’s hair. “Why’d you stop?”

“You haven’t looked pathetic,” Niall said. “You really need to get over that. It’s ok to be vulnerable sometimes—especially after what you went through. I would have thought there was something wrong with you if you weren’t upset. AND if you did act ‘pathetic,’ I’m the person to do it in front of. Because I’m your boyfriend now. Part of the job description is to hold your hand when you need to be ‘pathetic.’”

“You get angry when I talk down about myself,” Harry said. He said it more to himself than to Niall, as if he was making a mental note, something for him to reference later. 

“I get that you had a rough childhood,” Niall said. Harry turned his head to the side and nudged Niall’s thigh with his nose like a cat begging for attention. Niall started running his fingers through his hair again. “I get that your dad made you feel like shit, but you’re not shit. Eventually, I’m going to get upset enough times and tell you enough times, and you’re going to believe me.” 

“I never slept at home,” Harry said. “Maybe a couple hours, but it was never restful. I never knew how drunk he was going to be or what I might have done to piss him off, so I was always on edge. When I’m here, when I’m with you, I felt…I feel safe, so I can sleep. Honestly, I had forgotten what it felt like just to sleep, to dream. The first couple times, I woke up in the middle of the night panicking. I couldn’t remember where I was. But then I saw you, and I was better.” 

Niall felt a twinge in his heart, but he knew better than to get sappy, so he said: “See? Was that so hard?”

“You’re a dick,” Harry replied, but he was smiling. “Just keep messing with my hair. Feels nice.” 

Niall wove his fingers through the soft curls once more and twisted them around his fingers. His eyes trailed down Harry’s bare torso, scanning the yellowed skin to the right. The lights were on in the room, and he could see all the littler imperfections on Harry’s body. Every light scar, every indentation. He wanted to know the story behind all of it. His eyes fell on Harry’s bandaged arm.

The cut was nasty, from what he saw. It stretched along his whole forearm and was at least an inch deep. It had soaked Harry’s white shirt completely red by the time they got to the hospital.

“What did he do, Haz?” Niall asked. “To your arm.” Harry’s body stiffened under him. Niall stroked his bruised jaw where it was obvious his dad had struck him. “It’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I thought…I thought he was finally going to do it, Niall,” Harry admitted. “I thought he was going to kill me.” 

Niall almost stopped him because wasn’t sure he could hear this, but Harry opened his eyes and looked up at him. He looked like he needed to tell someone, so Niall let him continue. Harry pushed himself up until his shoulders were against Niall’s chest. Niall wrapped his arms loosely around his waist, stroking his soft skin.

“He was so mad because I hadn’t been home,” Harry said. “Once he got home, he came into my room. He had this knife—a box cutter or something. He punched me in the face to get me down. He held it to my neck.” Harry swallowed hard and closed his eyes again. Niall kissed his jaw.

“Pressed it right to my jugular,” Harry continued, his voice surprisingly steady. “I’m surprised it didn’t pierce at all. Somehow I managed to push him off, but as I did, he cut my arm. I didn’t care. I just ran. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have known that I couldn’t just hide here with you forever.” 

“Yes, you can,” Niall said. He didn’t know how true those words were. Could they just keep him here? Was it legal? It didn’t matter. He had to say something to make Harry feel better. “I’m not letting you go back there. Ever.” 

“I always thought you were cute,” Harry said. He was the master of changing subjects. His eyes slipped closed again. He turned his head into Niall’s chest. Niall brought from hand from his waist and pushed his hair from his forehead. “That’s probably why I fought you so hard. I didn’t want to like you.”

“Sorry?” 

Harry smiled then it fell. “I thought I lost you for good after the hospital,” he said. “I don’t know why I said that. And you got so mad.”

“You almost did lose me,” Niall said. “Had you not come to me, I wouldn’t have gone back to you. It’s just that word…”

“I know,” Harry said, staring up at Niall with heavy eyes. “Can you lay with me?”

Niall nodded and lifted Harry’s head off his chest. He slid down next to him. Harry turned onto his back and automatically wrapped his arms around his front. He looked at Niall nervously. Niall smiled and kissed his nose. 

He took Harry’s injured arms and laid it under his neck; he was careful to rest his head on his bicep and avoid the bandaged area. He took Harry’s other hand and placed it on his waist. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and kissed him lightly. 

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Harry asked. They were so close that he had no choice but to look Niall in the eye, which Niall could tell was making him uncomfortable.

“One,” Niall said. “Last year. His name was Zayn. He was a bit of a tool, but he was hot. He moved away at the beginning of the summer. I didn’t like him nearly as much as I like you.” 

Harry lifted his hand from Niall’s waist and brushed his knuckles over his cheek. “You have really pretty eyes,” he said. His thumb dragged over Niall’s bottom lip, stopping right at the corner. “And lips.”

Harry pressed his lips to Niall’s. He wasn’t as timid as he had been before. His kisses were rough, but still delicate. He took charge and pulled Niall close to him. It was exactly how Niall had pictured his kisses would be. He was still a little sloppy, but they had plenty of time to practice. 

“I think you’re going to be just fine at this, Harry,” Niall said when they pulled back. Harry smiled.


	10. Stars in a Galazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

“Stop. You’re putting me in physical pain.” Harry’s curls were pushed far enough to the side that Niall could see the wrinkles digging into his forehead. His eyes were in his infamous half squint as he peered over Niall’s shoulder at his chemistry assignment. Mr. Marshall had handed them out at the beginning of class. Niall was putting genuine effort into it, but he was, apparently, not doing it correctly. 

Harry placed his hand on Niall’s paper and slid it in front of him. He went to work erasing everything Niall had written. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he did so. Niall had to put conscious effort into not kissing him, and instead wore his heart eyes with no shame. Under the table, Harry’s knee pressed against Niall’s. 

It was a characteristic he wouldn’t have thought Harry to have, but Harry liked to touch. He liked to be touched. Since they started dating barely three days ago, Harry made sure he was in almost constant contact with Niall. When they were at home, when they were alone, that’s all they did. Not that Niall was complaining. 

Perhaps it was because this was his first relationship, to maybe it was because he was a man of science, but Harry always seemed to be studying Niall. He started off sitting at Niall’s side and slowly run his hands down his chest, across his stomach and always stopping at his waist—though Niall never asked him to. Once he was more comfortable with the idea of Niall being his to touch, he moved to straddling his waist, sitting low on his stomach while the pads of his fingers ran over Niall’s body.

When the roles were reversed, Niall did the same thing. Harry’s head almost always rested in the crook of Niall’s arm, lying close to his side. Niall liked to glide his hand down Harry’s front and feel the bump of his abs under this hand. Harry’s back was Niall’s favorite though. He liked how his muscles moved under his skin with every movement. Sometimes Harry fell asleep as Niall stroked his back. His breathing would become even and shallow, and Niall would lean down and press a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

They never spoke during, and they rarely made eyes contact, but to Niall it felt like the most intimate thing he had ever been a part of. 

Harry always fell asleep in Niall’s arms or with Niall in his. Niall was worried at first that maybe they were moving too fast. They hadn’t even started dating before they were practically living together and sharing a bed. But even once they drifted apart while sleeping, Niall would wake with Harry’s hand on his back or their ankles locked. It was like Harry was scared Niall was going to leave him in the middle of the night. He would never voice this fear, obviously, but Niall could tell that there was no way Harry would sleep on his own. And Niall would have asked him to.

“I’m honestly trying,” Niall said. Harry set down his eraser and picked up his pencil.

“It’s just a formula,” Harry said, sounding completely dumbfounded by Niall’s inability to complete what he saw to be so simple. “This isn’t even chemistry. It’s math. You’re not putting the numbers in the right places.” 

“Do I correct your grammar at every given opportunity?” Niall asked.

“You probably would if I ever used it improperly,” Harry said with a smirk as he punched numbers into the calculator. “Like I don’t have a comprehension of the English language that matches, if not rivals yours. Face it, Horan, I’m just smarter than you.”

“I hate when you get smug,” Niall said. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look pouty.

“Get used to it,” Harry said, pushing Niall’s corrected paper toward him. “I’m smug a lot.” 

“I strongly dislike you,” Niall said. He looked down at the paper. Seeing Harry’s solution made him see what he had did wrong. Harry made it look effortless, whereas Niall had broken a sweat while getting to the wrong answer. He looked over at Harry who smirked wider. He bumped Niall’s leg with his under the table. Niall looked down and smiled. 

“Hey, queers.” Niall looked up and saw Simon standing at their table, his knuckles pressing against the surface. Niall put his head down and ignored him, but Harry stared. 

“Can we help you?” Harry asked politely. Simon obviously hadn’t expected an answer; his eyes shone with amusement as he turned his attention to Harry.

“Trust me, I don’t want anything you’re offering,” Simon said with a nasty smile. “We always knew about that one,” he continued, pointing to Niall. “But you never struck as the limp wristed type, new kid.” 

“Are you insinuating that anyone friends with someone who is gay is gay by association?” Harry asked. Simon’s brow furrowed. “By that logic, anyone friends with you is stupid by association.” Niall bit back his laugh.

Simon may not have comprehended everything Harry was saying, but he knew he had been insulted. He glared at Harry, but then turned his attention to Niall. “Hey, Liam,” Simon called. Liam, who was sitting two tables away watching the whole scene, looked panicked; his eyes grew wide. “Didn’t you and Horan used to be friends?”

“I, uh…we…I mean.” Liam wasn’t good when he was put on the spot; he never had been. Niall’s cheeks pinkened and he fixed his eyes on Harry’s loopy handwriting on his page. 

“He tried to make a move on you, didn’t he?” Simon asked. Niall’s head snapped up. His blue eyes met Simon’s cold hazel ones. His eyes practically danced.

“What?” Niall asked, suddenly finding his voice.

“I mean, you were so close then you weren’t. That’s the only explanation,” he said. “Or maybe you just traded in for a young model. One that will let you actually touch him.” 

“Go to hell,” Harry said. Harry had a gift when it came to maintaining his anger. His voice was calm and his expression was blank, but his foot tapped violently against his stool.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” With that, Simon turned around and got to his seat right as the bell rang. 

Simon had been the one to come up to Niall and Harry; he had been the one to antagonize them for no reason, but Niall couldn’t keep his eyes off Liam. With every hurried movement Liam made to pack his stuff away, not even bothering to meet Niall’s eyes, Niall grew angrier. He left his stuff and Harry at the table and ran after Liam, who was making his way out the door. He caught him in the hall. He grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“What the hell is your problem?” Niall asked, practically shouting. Liam snatched his arm away. “Are you one of his lemmings now or something?”

“I didn’t make him go up to you,” Liam said. Niall remembered when he used to be able to read Liam’s face. The corners of his eyes creased when he was happy. His eyebrows merged when he was upset. When he was anxious, his lips were red from excessive biting. In the hall, Liam’s face was blank as he stared at Niall.

“But you didn’t say anything when he did,” Niall said. He balled his hands at his sides so Liam couldn’t see that they were shaking. “You could have at least denied it. You know that never happened! That I would never…you were my best friend, Liam. You could have said something!”

“I was your best friend,” Liam said. His voice was cold; colder than Niall had ever heard it. “And when I was your best friend, Simon never picked on you. Maybe if you were keeping better company, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Better company?” Niall asked in disbelief. “Oh, like before? Maybe you should tell our your ‘friends’ about the shit you used to talk about them when they weren’t around. Maybe you should tell them how, other than Louis, you think they’re spoiled pieces of shit! How about you be real for once in your goddamn life, Liam! Stop faking it because you think it’ll make everyone happy!” 

The hall was mostly clear around them and the warning bell rang, but neither one of them moved.

“You were always insufferable,” Liam said. “Always complaining about your life like it was so damn hard. ‘Poor me, I’m Niall, and I have too much money and everyone around me is a spoiled piece of shit.’ When in reality, you’re just like them. Maybe they are spoiled pieces of shit, but at least they know it.”

“Fuck you.”

As Liam walked away, Niall thought he heard him mumble something along the lines of “you wish.” Niall couldn’t stop his hands from shaking or his lip was quivering. Everything about this situation was wrong. Liam was too nice; he cared way too much about people’s feelings to say such horrible things—things that he had only said to hurt Niall because they weren’t true…were they?

Niall watched him walk away as he stood frozen to his place. Harry came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. Niall looked at him as if he was barely registering he was there. Harry laced his fingers with Niall’s, suddenly not caring if anyone saw them, and pulled him toward the door. 

*** 

Once they were in the car, Harry fished Niall’s keys from his bag and leaned over the console to start it. He busied himself typing a destination into the navigation system. Niall wasn’t even paying attention. He kept going over Liam’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. 

Before he could slip further into his thoughts, Harry brushed his knuckles against Niall’s cheek. Harry looked so concerned for him; he chewed on his bottom lip and watched Niall with wide, glassy eyes. Niall knew it wasn’t fair to be frustrated with him, but he wished Harry was the kind of person who would just throw his arms around him and hold him because that’s what he really needed.

“Press go to start navigation,” the electronic voice said. Harry’s hand dropped from Niall’s face. Niall sighed and placed his hands on the steering wheel. 

“Where are we going?” Niall asked quietly as he put the car in reverse. 

“It’s a surprise?” Harry said, not really sure of himself. 

“Ok,” Niall responded. He didn’t have the energy to dig deeper. He felt a little better when Harry reached across and took his hand.

*** 

Niall parked in the museum parking lot. Of course, Harry was taking him to a museum. As they got out of the car, Niall thought of ways to politely tell Harry he wasn’t in the mood to learn. He just wanted to lie in bed, but Harry looked excited, which was not something Niall saw much, so he walked with him. He would give it a try.

Niall pulled out his wallet once they got to the door, ready to pay admission, but Harry stopped him. “I got it,” he said. Before Niall had a chance to question him, Harry walked passed him to the ticket counter.

A woman in his mid-forties was working behind the desk. She had long blonde hair and soft eyes that reminded him of his mom. “Harry!” she said cheerfully. “We haven’t seen you around here in an age!”

“Hello, Helen,” Harry said. He was smiling in the way made his eyes light up. Prangs of jealous built in Niall’s stomach. He had to try so hard to get Harry to smile like that (though with every kiss, it was getting easier) whereas all this woman had to do was exist. 

“Sorry, I haven’t been around,” Harry said. He leaned onto the counter as he spoke. “Started at the academy this year, remember?”

“I certainly do, but I still miss you,” she said. “Did you want to go into the museum?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could use the arena,” Harry said. Helen looked worried at the idea, but didn’t turn Harry down right away. “I know it’s not really allowed since there aren’t any shows scheduled, but my friend’s had a bad day.” 

The woman looked over Harry’s shoulder to Niall who waved. She smiled and turned back to Harry. She opened as drawer and handed Harry a key. “Here,” she said. “Carl isn’t working today. Just me and Craig, so you’ll be fine.” 

“Thanks so much, Helen,” Harry said.

“I know you’re busy, Harry, but you should come by if you have some time,” she said. “The kids miss you.” 

“I will; I promise.” He grabbed Niall’s wrist and led him away.

“The kids?” Niall asked as Harry guided him down a bright hall.  
“It’s free on Sundays,” Harry said. Niall noticed his smile had fallen already. “So, I would save some of my lunch money every week and take the tube over here. I was here so much that last year, I started volunteering. I would do tours and stuff. Sometimes I would do activities with the kids.”

“Really?” Niall asked in disbelief.

“I’m really good with kids,” Harry said. He stopped at a set of double doors and slid the key in. “They’re not like grown-ups or teenagers. They’re honest and most of the time, they’re funny.”

“I would have never guessed,” Niall said. He leaned against the wall and watched Harry fumble with the lock, which was sticking. “You’re a man of many faces.” 

Finally, Harry got the door open. It was dark inside once Harry closed and locked the door behind them, but Harry navigated it with ease. He took Niall’s hand and held it against his hip as he guided him through. “Sit here,” he said. Niall did as he was told. He couldn’t see him, but he heard Harry walking back up the aisle. 

Moments later, the music started. The sound of violins was just loud enough to fill the massive space without being overbearing. It went on for a few moments before the ceiling lit up. Niall noticed now that they were in a giant dome. Overhead, thousands of stars came to life, twinkling and moving. Niall was so caught up in it that he didn’t notice Harry sit down next to him until he threaded their fingers. They both leaned back in the reclining chairs.

After a while, Harry spoke, this voice breaking through the music. “You’re not like them,” he said. 

“Maybe I am,” Niall said. The thought had been plaguing him since they left the school. Maybe he was everything Liam thought said he was.

“Would you be here with me if you were?” Harry asked. Niall’s stomach tightened. He knew he wouldn’t be, but he didn’t respond. 

“Sometimes you say things to me or look at me in a certain way if I haven’t heard of something,” Harry said. “It’s like you can’t believe I didn’t know about these things. And sometimes you just expect to pay for things. Like when we came into the museum. You assumed I had brought you somewhere where I expected you to pay for us. 

“You know you have money,” Harry said. “You know you don’t have to worry about things like that, and you know I do. But that doesn’t mean you’re like them. The difference is that you don’t care that I have zero dollars to my name. They would, and they would try and make me feel like I was inferior. You’re not like them, Niall.

“You’re nice,” Harry went on. “Sometimes you seem a little jaded, but you care so much about everyone. You didn’t know me yet you took me into your home and took care of me, and you would do that for anyone else who needed it because it’s just who you are. And you’re funny in a genuine way, not in a ‘ha ha I think I’m better than you’ kind of way.

“You make me happy; even if I don’t show it, or I’m not very good at showing it,” Harry said. “I’m not good with words, or emotions in general. That’s your thing. I know it aggravates you sometimes; I can see it. But I’m good with science, and that’s why I brought you here. 

“This is what I see when I look at you,” he said, gesturing at the dome above them. “Space is vast, never ending. There are imperfections—black holes, dead stars—but it’s colorful and complex and amazing. It’s breath taking—beautiful—and it blows my mind that it exists. 

“I’ll never understand it,” he went on. “Not fully anyway, but I never want to stop trying. I just want to appreciate it even though I may be the smallest most minuscule part of it.” 

Niall’s focus had shifted from the stars to Harry halfway through his speech. Silent tears slid down his cheeks. Harry continued watching the stars as he spoke, but he could feel Niall looking at him and turned his head toward him when he finished. Niall had no idea where those words had come from; he had no idea Harry thought about him like that. 

To be honest, he hadn’t been sure if Harry liked him as much as he liked Harry. Part of him was scared that Harry had Florence Nightingale syndrome and only liked him because he had taken him away from his own personal hell. But as he watched Harry’s lips form every word, the stars dancing in his green eyes, he knew they couldn’t be anything other than true. Harry was always shocking him. 

“You’re not minuscule,” was all Niall could think of as a response. Harry smiled at him, a genuine smile that was on his lips simply because Niall existed. He leaned down and kissed him.


	11. Gemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

“No, mom, really it’s fine,” Niall said. He plopped down on the couch next to Harry, who had on his usual concentration face on as his fingers glided over his dark pink scar. “Harry’s here with me, and we haven’t burned the place down yet. We’ll be fine.” He paused while his mom spoke; he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, trying to break his concentration. It didn’t work.

“Ok, see you in another week. Yeah, love you too. Ok. Bye.” He ended the call and tossed the phone to the table. “They’re extending their vacation,” he said to Harry, who just nodded. “What’s wrong?”

“It looks really bad, doesn’t it?” Harry asked, holding out his arm to Niall. Niall cradled it gently and brushed his fingers over Harry’s cool skin. 

“Looks better than the stitches did,” he said. They had gone earlier in the day to get the stitches removed. Harry had tried to get Niall to let him do it himself, insisting that he could. He had obviously lost that argument.

“Maybe if they kept them in longer…”

“It’s been a week,” Niall pointed out. “He said it was normal. He wouldn’t have taken them out if they weren’t ready, Har.”

“I know, it’s just…” his face twisted. Every since the day at the planetarium, he had been trying really hard to tell Niall what he was feeling instead of shutting down. Niall could always tell when he wanted to say something because his nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed as if he were contemplating whether or not it was ok to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

“It’s just what?” Niall prompted, rubbing his arm. 

“I’ve always been able to hide it,” Harry said finally. He lifted his arm slightly then let it fall back down on Niall’s lap. “I can’t hide this.”

“So what?” Niall asked. “People have scars. “And no offense, darling, but you’re not really on anybody’s radar. No one is going to ask about it.” 

“But it’s ugly,” he said. He looked up at Niall with big eyes. Niall bit back a laugh because Harry was pouting and it was equal parts adorable and hilarious. “Don’t you think it’s ugly?”

Niall smiled and traced his finger down Harry’s jaw. “I don’t think any part of you is ugly, Harry Styles,” he said before leaning down and pressing his lips to Harry’s. 

When they pulled apart, Harry sighed and leaned against Niall’s chest. Niall wrapped his arms around him and dragged his fingers across his stomach. Harry continued to stare at his arm. Niall couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have constant reminders of someone you loath all over your body. This wasn’t the first time Harry had brought up his scars or general feelings of being inferior. Niall hated Harry’s father for making his son feel so badly about himself. Sure, there were moments when Harry was doing some kind of school work, and a smug smile would spread across his face, but they were largely out numbered but the amount of times there was panic etched in his expression as Niall’s eyes roamed his body. 

Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled his cheek into Niall’s bicep. Outside, the sun was sinking, marking the end of their first week together. It felt like longer than that; it felt like they had been together for years. They were still figuring each other out, of course—like how Harry hated reality TV because it wasn’t realistic at all or how when Niall was writing there was very little one could do to get his attention. But learning all of Harry’s idiosyncrasies was fun for Niall, like he was solving a jigsaw puzzle. He knew that he may never have all the pieces, but it didn’t stop the overall picture from being beautiful. 

Niall thought Harry had fallen asleep when he spoke. “I told Gemma,” he said, not opening his eyes. “About us. She wants to meet you.” 

Niall was silent as he contemplated the statement. Gemma was the only person in Harry’s family that he spoke about willingly. It was obvious that he loved her very much; he put her on a pedestal. Since their relationship was still new, Niall kept his mouth shout when Harry spoke about her because all he wanted to ask was why he wasn’t staying with her? Why had she moved out without him? If she was of legal age, why didn’t she help him?

There had to be reasons for this, Niall knew. Harry wasn’t the kind of person to blindly love someone. If Gemma had the means to protect Harry and didn’t, Harry wouldn’t care for her nearly as much as he did, but that didn’t stop Niall’s defenses from going up. He just wanted Harry to be safe, and until a week ago, no one had been able to provide that for him. 

“Did you hear me?” Harry asked. He turned his head and looked up at Niall.

“Yeah, I heard you,” he said. Harry was expecting a response; Niall bit his lip and asked the next question carefully. “Harry…why don’t you live with Gemma?”

Harry’s body stiffened, and he turned away. He didn’t pulled away from Niall, which he took as a good sign. “You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want,” he said.

“I want to meet her,” Niall said. “I know she means a lot to you, so I really do want to meet her. It’s just…”

“Not everyone has the means to take in strays, Niall,” Harry said. The words stung. Niall held Harry tighter.

“You’re not a stray,” he said. “I just wanted to know…”

“If she really loved me, why wouldn’t she help me?” Harry asked. Slowly, he was trying to scoot away from Niall, but Niall kept his arms firmly locked around him.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…I just wanted to know.” 

“She never offered, and I never asked,” Harry said. “I think part of her is scared that if I lived with her, that he would find her again. She got out. I can’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance.” 

Niall and Greg didn’t have the best relationship, but Niall couldn’t imagine sacrificing Greg’s well being for his own benefit. He would like to think that he would do everything in his power to keep them both safe if they were in a situation like Harry’s. Surely there were laws, restraining orders, something that could help. These were thoughts Niall kept to himself. 

“She’s there when I need her though,” Harry said, sounding so hopeful that it actually pulled at Niall’s heart. Harry wanted to badly for Niall to see the good in his sister, even if they had never met. “If I need money or something. She does what she can.” 

Niall leaned down and kissed Harry’s temple. Harry relaxed a little, allowing his hands to close around Niall’s forearm. “I really do want to meet her,” Niall said. 

“I’m sorry I snapped,” Harry said. 

“It’s ok.” 

“She doesn’t work tomorrow.” 

*** 

They planned on meeting Gemma at a restaurant downtown. Harry and Niall got there first and slid into one side of the booth. Harry scanned the menu, decided what he wanted and pushed it toward Niall. As Niall read over the menu, Harry clawed at his arm. Niall reached over and stopped him like he had been doing for the past week.

“It’s itches,” Harry said, staring down at the angry red mark. 

“That means it’s healing,” Niall said pointedly. He closed the menu and looked at his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” 

“Still itches regardless of my IQ,” Harry sneered. Niall smirked.

“We’ll stop buy the store on the way home and see if they have something for it,” Niall said. He laced his fingers with Harry’s to keep him from scratching. “We’re out of milk anyway.” 

“Milk. We sound so domestic,” Harry said. 

“Is that such a bad thing?” Niall asked. Harry’s face was as unreadable as it always was.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. Niall smiled and brought Harry’s hand to his lips. 

*** 

Gemma was thirty minutes late. Niall didn’t mention how much that bothered him because he didn’t want to upset Harry, whose eyes lit up when she finally made her way to the table. Harry got up to greet her, wrapping his arms around her in the most effortless embrace. She was a full head shorter than him; he buried his nose in her hair. 

She was skinnier than Niall had imagined her. She looked almost unhealthy. His first thought was she wasn’t eating enough; his second thought was maybe she had some sketchy hobbies that kept the weight off, but he pushed those thoughts to the side. Her dark hair was up in a sloppy ponytail that hung to her shoulders and there were bags under her eyes. Her smile looked a lot like Harry’s. 

“Gem,” Harry said, turning back to the table. “This is my…um, Niall.”

Harry didn’t like the term boyfriend. Just like the words “I’m gay,” he had trouble saying it. Niall didn’t mind. Being Harry’s Niall was just as good in his book. Maybe better. 

“It’s really good to meet you, Niall,” Gemma said, taking Niall’s hand and squeezing it. She slipped into the booth across from Niall, and Harry took his seat back next to him. He pressed his calf against Niall’s. 

“You too,” Niall said. 

“Harry’s told me so much about you,” she said. Niall wondered when they spoke. Harry was almost always with him, and he never saw him on the phone.

“Only the good things, I hope,” Niall joked. 

“Well, from what he says, there’s not any bad,” she said. She beamed at her little brother then turned her eyes back to meet Niall’s.

“Oh? Really?” Niall teased, nudging Harry. 

Harry was blushing and refusing to look Niall in the eye. “He snores,” he said quickly.

“You’re joking right?” Niall said with a laugh. “I snore? Really?”

“It’s woken me up before,” Harry said, finally meeting his eye. The corners of his mouth rose slightly. 

“That’s your own snoring you’re hearing, darling,” Niall said. “Because I don’t snore. You snore.” He poked Harry in the arm; Harry laughed and moved away in a vain attempt to dodge him.

“You two are cute,” Gemma said. The two quieted, and Harry moved back so he was pressed against Niall. The waitress came over before the silence could become awkward. Harry tried to convince Gemma to get something other than a salad, but she maintained she wasn’t hungry. 

“Niall, Harry tells me you’re a writer,” she said as she sipped on her water. “Do you plan on studying that at university?”

“I do,” Niall said. “But I was thinking of taking a gap though. Traveling a bit. Maybe going to America—staying in New York for a couple weeks. Haven’t been there in ages.”

Harry and Niall’s legs swung in sync. They hadn’t talked about the future past the next couple of weeks, and the gap year was a fairly new idea for Niall. When he was friends with Liam, the plan had always been to go straight to university, but he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted to do. Taking a year sounded better to him; travelling and seeing the world. He was fairly certain he could convince his parents to pay for Harry so he wasn’t going alone—if they were still together, but he was pretty sure they would be.

“That sounds really nice,” Gemma said. Her lips were pulled in a tight smile, and Niall felt bad for so nonchalantly bringing up the fact that he had the money to take a year off and screw around in New York if he wanted to. 

The rest of the conversation was tense. Niall and Gemma tiptoed around each other, careful not to offend the other or say the wrong thing. Harry was stuck in the middle, trying to mediate. As far as first meeting went, it could have gone better. 

As Harry pushed his plate away, Gemma’s eyes locked on Harry’s scar. She had been eyeing it throughout the meal, but never acknowledged it. This time, when her eyes drifted from the mark, they met Niall’s. He stared at her, almost daring her to say something, to apologize to Harry for not protecting him, to say anything about it at all. She looked back down at her barely eaten salad. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Harry said. Gemma waited until he was gone to speak.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping him.” 

“It’s no problem,” Niall said, sounding snide. Now that Harry wasn’t there, he didn’t have to hide his annoyance at the older woman. “He means a lot to me. I would do anything to protect him.” 

“I’m really glad,” she said, obviously not catching on to Niall’s distaste. “He deserves it. He’s such a smart kid.” 

“Aren’t you even going to ask him if he’s ok?” Niall blurted. “I see you staring at his arm. Aren’t you even going to ask if he’s alright?” 

“No…I mean, I just assumed he was…because of you and all,” she stammered.

“He loves you,” Niall said. “Unconditionally. Loves you so much that he’s willing to look over the fact that a stranger took him into his home before his sister would.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Niall said. “And I don’t blame you, but you can’t pretend that his life hasn’t been hell. I know yours wasn’t easy either, but you got out. He had to stay and get the shit kicked out of him, and he didn’t even care because he thought he was protecting you. The least you can do is ask him if he’s ok.” 

“I really do love him,” was all she said in response. 

*** 

“I think she liked you,” Harry said hopefully as they drove toward the store. Niall nodded and kept quiet. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“Harry.” Niall sighed. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you, ok? And that’s really hard because I’m always scared I’m going to offend you, and you’re going to leave, which is the last thing I want, but I feel really bad lying to you.”

“You don’t like her, do you?” He sounded more sad than angry. Niall turned on his blinker and inhaled deeply, trying to gather his thoughts. 

“I don’t not like her, Harry,” Niall said. “I just don’t understand her. I’m not going to say I know what it must be like because I don’t. I’ve never been in your situation. But she’s your sister, and she loves you. I know she does. Her eyes are just as easy to read as yours. So why did she let you stay there? Why does she act like nothing’s wrong when so much is wrong, Harry?

“Not once during the whole meal did she ask you if you were ok,” he continued. He pulled into a parking space and shut the car off. He turned to face Harry. “She kept looking at your scar, but she never said anything about it. I know it’s not easy. Every time I see the marks on your body, it hurts me, so I can only imagine what it does to her, but you can’t just ignore this like it hasn’t happened, like it can’t still happen.

“I just wanted her to ask if you were ok,” he concluded. 

“But she knows I’m ok,” Harry said softly. “I told her that you…”

“Damn it, Harry, stop making excuses for her!” Niall snapped. He felt bad as soon as he saw Harry coil away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” He reached out and took Harry’s hand. “I just wish, for once, you would see how precious you are. There shouldn’t be any amount of fear that should keep her from getting you out of that environment. You deserved better, Harry. I know you love her, but that doesn’t mean she’s without flaws.” 

“She’s the only family I have, Niall,” Harry said. “I won’t believe that everyone in my family abandoned me, ok?” 

Niall’s heart broke. It was like in that one sentence, he saw everything. It was his mother dying. It was no one else in the family willing to take them in. It was his father rejecting him because of his sexuality. It was his sister, the only person he had left, the only person he trusted, who left him alone with a man who despised him. He was alone, clinging to Gemma as a last hope, honestly wanting to believe that there was nothing she could have done. 

Niall may not have known what it was like to have a father like Harry’s, but he understood feeling alone. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t have a family, like your friends were nothing more than people who stood around you sometimes. 

Niall climbed over the console and squeezed into the seat next to Harry. He cupped his face and kissed him. “You’re not alone,” he said. “Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You barely know me,” Harry said. “You can’t promise that.” 

“I can promise whatever I want as long as I plan to keep it,” Niall said. He caressed Harry’s cheek with his thumb and placed another light kiss on his lips. “And I do. I know we haven’t been together long, but sometimes…sometimes you just know things, yeah? It’s a feeling. I’m not scared of how you make me feel. I’m not scared of being with you. I’m not scared of your dad or anything else. The only thing that scares me is being without you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry said. His face was blank, but his eyes danced and even the dark, Niall could see them sparkling. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Niall could tell it was exactly what Harry needed to hear—someone telling him he was worth something, telling him they weren’t going to leave him and really mean it.


	12. Ultimately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Harry was lying on the couch, curled into a ball, and watching TV when Niall came down the stairs. It was early, close to four. Niall had woken in a panic when he turned over and felt the empty space where Harry should have been. He didn’t bother putting on a shirt before going to look for his boyfriend.

Niall found Harry laying on the couch in the living room. He hadn’t turned on the lights, so the only light came from the television where a documentary on seals was playing. Harry looked up at him as he enter, but didn’t move from his curled position. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” Niall said. Harry scooted closer to the edge of the couch. Niall swung himself behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist. He grazed his lips over the back of Harry’s neck and nudged his curls with him nose. “You can’t do that to me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You could have,” Niall said. The rain was hitting the windows as it came down, and the sound was slowly lulling Niall back to sleep. 

“Didn’t feel necessary,” Harry said. “I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to go back upstairs?”

“No,” Harry said. “You don’t have to stay up with me though.”  
“Good, because between the rain and this dude’s voice on the TV, I’m not going to last long,” Niall said as he pushed his nose into Harry’s hair and pulled his back against his chest. 

“Go to sleep, Ni,” Harry said. He rubbed Niall’s arms and settled into his embrace.  
“Niall?” Harry asked just as Niall was drifting off.

“Hmm?”

“Do we have to go to school today?” he asked. “I kind of just want to lie here.” 

Niall knew they should go, but Harry’s body felt too good next to his, and he couldn’t think of a single grade that would be worth leaving it. “No, we don’t.”

*** 

“When’s your birthday?” Harry asked. It was nearing noon now, and they had moved from the living room to the deck. Actually, Niall had been out there writing when Harry showed up in one of Niall’s oversized hoodies and crawled in between his legs. Only Harry knew how to break Niall’s unwavering concentration. It was still raining, coming down hard around them. They cuddled together on the lounge chair to keep warm. 

“September thirteenth,” Niall answered. “When’s yours?”

“February first,” Harry said. It felt ridiculous that they didn’t know each other’s birthdays before. Of all the things they had talked about, all their struggles and fears and dreams, the dates on which they were brought into the world had never come up. Silence washed over them as lightening flashed in the sky and thunder clapped.

Absentmindedly, Niall ran his fingers through Harry’s curls, letting them wrap around the ends of his fingers. He pressed his lips to Harry’s temple; Harry leaned his head back and looked up at him expectantly until Niall brushed his lips against his. Harry shivered. Niall couldn’t tell if it was from the kiss or the wind blowing around him; he held Harry closer.

Harry cupped the back of Niall’s neck and pulled him down to his lips again. He opened his mouth, giving Niall permission to enter. Still hesitant of each other, unsure how far the other was willing to go, their tongues moved together briefly before Niall’s ventured to the unexplored parts of Harry’s mouth. Harry relaxed in Niall’s arms, his tongue occasionally running along Niall’s, until he was done. Then he got from the chair and walked into the house.

There was no coming down with Harry. He would stop abruptly in the middle of their kissing; just making the decision that he had enough. Lucky for Niall, they never got to past kissing so it was only a mild frustration that he had learned to deal with. He gathered his stuff and followed Harry in. 

“It’s really cold out there,” Harry said as way of explanation. He was standing in front of the fridge and eyeing the contents. “We were supposed to buy food today. We don’t have food.”

Niall shrugged. “We’ll order in.” He hoped on the counter next to where Harry was standing. He reached behind him and grabbed an apple, which he sunk his teeth into. Harry closed the fridge and leaned against it. He took the apple from Niall’s hand, took a bite then handed it back. 

He stared down at his feet and kicked them across the tile. Niall waited for him to speak. “Can we have Italian? Like lasagna?” he asked. Niall took another bite of the apple and wondered why Harry was being so shy about asking for dinner. Of all the things he was reluctant to talk about, food wasn’t one of them. He handed the apple back to Harry. 

“I’m sure someone around here delivers,” Niall said. “We’ll have to google it.” Harry nodded and bit into the apple.

*** 

The first piece of furniture Niall’s mom bought when they got the house was the dining table. The massive oak table took up the whole room and could sit fifteen people comfortably, twenty people during holidays. They never really used the table other than on holidays because his dad worked late, so him and his mom, when she was home, would sit at the breakfast nook and eat. 

Harry liked the room though, and insisted that they eat dinner in there every night. He liked the pattern carved into the legs of the table and rich green wallpaper. He also liked that it was the only room in the house that had no TV or radio or anything. It forced them to have conversation, which Niall found ironic considering Harry apprehension to talking. 

Harry picked at his lasagna, taking apart the layers like he was dissecting a science experiment. He ate it slowly and in sections. He didn’t look too happy about it. Niall watched him curiously as he ate his own food. Harry could feel Niall’s eyes on him and looked up; Niall raised an eyebrow. 

“My mom used to make it with cottage cheese,” Harry said, looking back down at him plate. “I didn’t even like cottage cheese, but it mixed with the sauce, so you couldn’t taste it. It wasn’t as heavy as everyone else’s.” Harry poked his fork into the Ricotta as he spoke. “It was her favorite, but she never ate it because pasta was fattening, and she was convinced she was a whale or something.” He smiled at the thought, but it dropped. “She wasn’t. She was beautiful.” 

“I bet she was,” Niall said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t know if Harry wanted him to say anything. Sometimes he just had this outburst with some random fact from his past. Most of the time, it was sad, and Niall never knew how to respond, so he just listened. Harry seemed content with that.

“It’s her birthday,” Harry said after a brief silence. He went back to eating. He laid his hand palm up on the table; Niall took it. Harry was diligently shoveling his food into his mouth; Niall took it as a sign of him not wanting to talk anymore, so he started eating again.

*** 

“She would have liked you,” Harry said later that night. They were sitting in Niall’s parent’s oversized tub, which was serving as a hot tub since the real one was out in the rain. They were in their boxers, each sitting with their backs to the jets on either side of the tub, their legs mingling in the middle. 

“You think?” Niall asked. He had long since stopped questioning the way Harry dropped a subject only to bring it back up without warning hours later. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. He skimmed his hands over the surface of the water, letting the bubbles slip between his fingers. “Because you’re nice and cute and artsy. I’m not artsy, and she liked that kind of stuff. Also, you’re good to me.”

“I try,” Niall said with a small smile. 

“But I wouldn’t have met you if she hadn’t…is it bad that I think about that sometimes?” Harry asked, suddenly looking up at Niall. “Sometimes, when we’re laying in bed, and you’re kissing me or you’re sitting through one of the movies I pick, which I know you hate—“

“I don’t hate all of them,” Niall interjected.

“I think, if she were still here, I wouldn’t have you,” he continued. “It’s not like I’m glad she died, but it’s just…I don’t know. Is it bad?”

“No, baby, it’s not bad,” Niall said. “Everything would have been different for you if she were still alive. You would have been different. You wouldn’t have needed me, and I’m sure you would have found a nice boy in whatever fancy school you would have gone to.” 

Harry slid over next to Niall. “I’m glad you were annoying and wouldn’t leave me alone those first couple weeks.” 

Niall laughed. “Annoying? You thought I was annoying?” he asked. Harry smiled and nodded. “Well, I thought you were moody.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Harry said with a shrug. “But neither was I.” 

“You are a proper jackass, Harry Styles,” Niall said. “Me, annoying? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.” 

“Ok, so you’re not nearly as annoying as you were before,” Harry admitted. He flicked the water off his fingers into Niall’s face.

“You’re just as moody,” Niall said. Harry laughed. It echoed through the large bathroom, filling it like music in an opera hall. Niall would never get sick of that laugh or the way Harry’s eyes creased in the corners. Harry was still smiling when rested his head on shoulder and kissed his neck. 

*** 

“Hazza! Come here!” Niall called from the kitchen. He heard Harry coming down the stairs, and he wished he had left a light on; the stairs could be killer at night. Though Harry had been staying at the house long enough to where he could probably manage them as easily as Niall could.

“What?” Harry asked. Niall held up the batch of cupcakes he just had delivered. Harry looked at him with his head tilted to the side and his eyes in a squint. “What’s that?”

“I didn’t know what her favorite kind of cake was, so I just got yours,” Niall said, setting the plate down. Harry was still staring at him. “What? You can’t have a birthday without cake. I’m pretty sure it’s a law.” 

Harry took two large steps in his direction and wrapped his arms around his neck. Niall tucked his head into the crook of Harry’s neck and linked his arms around his waist. When they pulled away, Harry was smiling. Niall couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile so much in one day. 

“I’m always really sad on her birthday,” he said, his arms still around Niall’s neck. “But I’m not sad today. It’s really hard to be sad when I’m with you; I didn’t really notice that until today when I was suppose to be sad, and I just couldn’t. That’s how I know she would have liked you. Because I like you. A lot.” 

“Who are you and what have you done with my Harry?” Niall asked, shocked at Harry’s words. Slowly, Harry was getting more comfortable with telling him how he felt, but that was a lot all at once.

“I…aren’t I supposed to be telling you how I feel?” he asked, his face scrunching in concern. Niall laughed and kissed his nose.

“I was joking,” Niall said. 

*** 

Harry’s lips were always sweet, but that night they tasted like frosting melting against Niall’s as he hovered over him. Harry’s legs were bent, pressing against Niall’s hips, and his hands clung to Niall’s back. With their chests pressed together, it was hard to tell whose heartbeat was whose. 

Niall sucked Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth. Harry had gorgeous full lips that Niall couldn’t help but pull on when they kissed. He could never resist the urge to bite down on the soft flesh. Harry groaned in response and kissed back urgently. Niall pulled away and kissed the corner of his mouth then started down his jaw. Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers up and down Niall’s back. 

Niall’s tongue flicked over the surface as he moved down to Harry’s neck. He sucked on the skin where neck met shoulder and didn’t stop until there was a small red mark. He knew Harry’s shirt would cover it, but even it if didn’t, he was way past caring. Harry was his, and he wanted the world to know. 

Harry didn’t stop him as he continued down his body. Niall was prepared for the halt to come at any moment, so he moved slowly, savoring the taste of his skin. Harry’s collarbones jutted from taunt skin; Niall dragged his lips across them. He kissed down the smooth, no longer bruised skin at his side. 

Harry started to squirm as Niall got to his stomach. He placed an opened mouthed kiss below his belly button then moved back up to his mouth. Harry wrapped his arms around Niall’s waist and rolled them onto their sides. Niall pulled his knuckles down Harry’s cheek.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked quietly. Harry’s smile was barely there and his eyes were heavy lidded as he looked up at Niall.

“Once or twice,” he said. He let his eyes fall closed. “You know how you said sometimes you just know things—like a feeling?”

“Yeah,” Niall said, pushing Harry’s hair back then letting it fall back onto his forehead.

“I think I’m going to love you,” Harry said. “Ultimately.” Niall froze for a moment as he processed Harry’s words. He hadn’t said he loved him; they both knew it was too soon for that. His words meant that he was going to stick around, that he was willing to fall. To Niall, that meant just as much as the other three would have.

“I think I’m going to love you too.”


	13. Reunion at the Food Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

Niall’s parents got back the following Sunday, which meant Niall and Harry had to sit through hours of his mom regaling them with stories. Harry listened with a smile and asked questions at the right time. His mom was delighted because Niall never asked questions. They did the same thing every year, so there was no question he didn’t know the answer to.

“Harry, thank you so much for staying here with Niall,” his mom said when she finished her stories. She squeezed Harry’s knee as she spoke to him. Harry didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as Niall would have imagined him to be. “I always worry with him home alone.” 

“Mom,” Niall groaned. “I’m eighteen years old.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t worry,” she said. “And with Liam not…” she trailed off. Her smile faltered for a moment but then returned with full force. “I’m just glad someone was here.” 

“It’s no big deal, Mrs. Horan,” Harry said. 

“Your parents don’t have a problem with you staying here so much?” Niall’s dad asked. He leaned back in his chair. His eyes moved over Harry from head to toe. Niall was glad they were sitting far enough apart because even the slightest touch could have been an indicator. 

“It’s only my dad,” Harry said, his voice steady. “And he works a lot. I don’t think he even notices.” 

“Oh,” was all his dad said.

“Well, we like having you here,” his mom said. She was always ready to add the cheer his father lacked. He smiled at her. “What do you boys want for dinner?” 

“Actually,” Niall said. “We’re going out.” Harry’s eyes met Niall’s and his brow raised just a fraction. “Yeah, we were going to see a movie.”

“Oh, ok,” she said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Have you finished your homework?” his dad asked.

“Yes,” Niall answered. “We won’t be out too late.” 

He kissed his mom goodbye, grabbed his wallet and led the way out of the door. Harry didn’t speak until they were driving out of the neighborhood.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Niall said. “I just didn’t want to be there with them. It felt…wrong.” 

“Because of me?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” Niall said honestly. He reached over and laced his fingers with Harry’s. “I felt like I was suffocating.” 

“Are you ever going to tell them about us?” Harry asked.

“Yes, obviously,” Niall said. “When we’re done with school. When we move out.” 

“Niall, that’s a long time away.”

“I know,” he said. “But we can’t risk…my dad wouldn’t let you stay as much as you do if he knew, so we just have to be more careful. It’ll be ok.” 

“OK.” 

*** 

Harry and Niall never told anyone they were dating. They didn’t show any affection in public other than a few smiles and their legs touching under their desk. Despite this, people whispered as they passed, and Simon was unrelenting with the gay jokes. They never confirmed, but they never denied it either. 

Niall figured since it was Sunday, the shopping center would be dead, but it wasn’t. With Halloween fast approaching, there were people everywhere looking for costumes of pieces to finish their costumes. Niall and Harry avoided the hoards of people as much as they could; Harry carefully cleared a path for Niall so his claustrophobia wouldn’t kick in. They got food at the Chinese stand and found an empty table to sit at. 

“Aw, isn’t that sweet,” said a voice behind Niall. He knew it automatically; Harry looked over Niall’s shoulder and rolled his eyes. “You bought your boyfriend dinner.” Simon sat down at the empty seat next to Niall. Niall scooted away. “Tell me, since you paid, doesn’t that make him the girl?”

“You know, Simon, you spend a lot of time making homophobic remarks.” Harry and Niall looked at each other because it was neither of them who respond. They looked around until they found who it was. “If you keep it up, people are going to start to think you’re gay as well,” Louis said. He was standing behind Harry; Liam was hiding behind him. 

“I mean, there are worse things to be,” Louis said. “Like stupid, slow, ugly. You have a full plate, darling. I wouldn’t be adding to my resume if I were you.” Simon stared up at him, lost for a response. “Well? Piss off then.” 

“You’re all a bunch of fucking queers,” Simon said, getting up from the table.

Louis waved a flippant hand. “Yes, yes, we’re all very gay,” Louis said. Simon kept walking, and Louis took his place next to Niall. Liam stood in his same spot until Louis raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to the seat next to Harry. Reluctantly, Liam sat down. 

“I’m Louis,” he said, holding his hand out to Harry. “Spelled with an S, pronounced with an E. Like the French.” 

“Harry,” he said, taking Louis’ hand briefly. “Spelled with a Y, pronounced with a Y. Like normal.” 

“He’s sassy,” Louis said with a smile. “I see why you like him, Nialler.” Niall continued to stare him. Harry kicked him under the table and gave him a what-the-fuck kind of look. Niall shrugged. 

“So are you two then?” Louis asked. He popped one of his chips into his mouth then nudged Liam’s bag. “I didn’t buy it for you to stare at, Payne. Eat.”

“Louis, what are you doing?” Niall asked, avoiding his question.

“I’m trying to catch up on your damn life since you decided to ignore me for, what has it been now? Three weeks? A month?” There was the smallest trace of hurt in his voice.

“Louis…”

“No,” he said firmly. “I did nothing to you, and you stopped talking to me. The least you can do it answer the question and let us sit with you.” 

“Yes, we are,” Niall said. Harry’s eyes went wide as he finally confirmed the rumors.

“Ok,” Louis said. “Here’s a tip though: even if you get yourself a hot boyfriend, you don’t dump all your other friends. It’s fucked up.” 

“I didn’t dump all my friends,” Niall said. “Some of them did the dumping.” He glanced briefly at Liam.

“I know,” Louis said. “That’s why I’m here. I miss my friends. All of them. Those stupid fucking parties aren’t any fun if I don’t find you curled up in my theater reading. And they’re definitely not any fun with Mopey over here.” 

“I’m not moping,” Liam said, speaking finally.

“Screw you; that’s all you’ve been doing,” Louis said. “You miss him. I’m sure he misses you.” 

“Probably doesn’t have the chance to,” Liam said under his breath, glancing at Harry.

“That’s not fair,” Louis said before Niall could respond. “Harry hasn’t done anything to you. He hasn’t stolen your best friend; you let him go. You both need to get over yourselves and apologize.” 

“For what?” Liam asked. “He’s the one who ditched me for him.”  
“I did not,” Niall said. “I left you at a party and skipped out on math class. That’s hardly just cause for throwing away ten years of friendship.” 

“Well, it’s not like you fought for it, did you?” Liam counted, his eyes narrowed in slits.

“You called me insufferable.”

“Sometimes you are.” 

“Yeah, so are you, but I never called you on it,” Niall said. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes. Niall hadn’t realized he was shouting until Harry placed his hand over his. Niall flipped his hand over and held onto Harry.

“Maybe here isn’t the best place for this,” Harry said carefully. Louis followed his gaze to the surrounding tables, all of which were not so inconspicuously watching the interaction. 

“No, this is good,” Louis said with a shrug. “This way they can’t kill each other.” He picked at the last of his chips then balled up his garbage. “Come on, Styles. We’re going for a walk. Let the children discuss they’re hurt feelings in peace.” 

Harry tightened his grip on Niall’s hand. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Niall said. Louis began to tap his foot impatiently. Harry squeezed his hand then got up from the table.

“Good lad,” Louis said with a smile. He swung his arm around Harry’s neck, and turned them around. “I’m going to be honest, I’ve wanted to touch your hair since you transferred. Do you mind?” He ran his fingers through Harry’s curl before he had a chance to respond. Harry looked back at Niall, clearly regretting his decision to leave the table.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Tomlinson,” Niall said. Louis smiled over his shoulder and continued forward. 

Niall crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. Liam wouldn’t look at him and instead focused on his now cold chips. He stuffed one in his mouth; his lip twitched as the bitter sogginess of the chip overtook his mouth. Niall bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Liam was so stubborn sometimes.

“He’s not going to let us leave if we don’t talk,” Niall said. Liam shrugged. “Was it really that bad? What I did—was it really that bad? He needed me that one night, that one day during school. I didn’t leave you stranded. I didn’t—“

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Liam said.

“Tough shit because I do,” Niall said. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. You’re my best friend, and I miss you.” 

“You seem to be doing all right,” he said, still looking down at his food.

“You were the first person I told, Liam,” Niall said. “And you never judged me, and I knew I could always talk to you without you getting weird about it. Why is it now that I actually have someone I care about that you’re acting like this?”

Liam remained silent, but sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. He chewed on it while Niall waited for a response that wasn’t coming.

“I hate when you get like this,” Niall said. “It’s like you think I don’t know you. I can see you want to say something. Just say it. Tell how I’m a bad friend, and how Harry’s trash, and how I’m a horrible person. Call me a fag. Just say whatever it is you’re thinking, so we can move on with our lives.”  
“I would never call you that,” Liam said, meeting his eyes and looking generally appalled that Niall would even suggest something like that. “You know I would never…”

“If it’s not about me being gay, what is it then? Because I’m at a complete loss here, Liam,” Niall said. 

“I was jealous of him, ok?” Liam blurted. “Is that what you want to hear? I felt threatened by him because all of a sudden you were giving your attention to someone else, and I’m selfish, and I didn’t like it. Happy?”

“No.” Niall shifted in his seat, and tucked his hands into his pockets. Over Liam’s shoulder, he saw Harry and Louis sitting at a table toward the door; Harry was watching them. Louis looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes before grabbing Harry’s face and forcing him to face him again. Niall smiled; he really did miss him. 

“Well, I have nothing else for you,” Liam said.

“You’re lying,” he said. “I had other friends. It wasn’t only ever just you. Why were you never jealous of Louis? I spent time with him without you.”

“It’s different,” Liam maintained. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

“How? How is it different? Harry was just my friend when—“

“But you wanted him to be more,” Liam said quickly. “I could see it in the way you looked at him like he was the best thing you’d ever seen.” 

“So? Why does that…” The words got lost as something in his mind clicked. He slumped back against his seat and stared at Liam. “Oh.”

“It’s not what you think,” Liam said, his cheeks burning.

“What is it then?”

Liam opened his mouth several times, but didn’t manage to get the words out. Niall sat patiently. “It’s not like I had a crush on you,” Liam said finally. “I don’t even know what it was. I never wanted…I never thought of you like that, obviously. I just didn’t like the thought of you and him…then you left me at Louis’ party, and it honestly felt like you were choosing him over me.” 

“But I wasn’t—“

Liam held up a hand to stop him. “Just let me finish or else I’m never going to say it,” he said. Niall nodded. “I was drunk, and it hurt me. I went to look for Louis. He was in his room, and we started talking. Then we…stopped talking.” His face turned bright red. 

“Liam, I’m really not sure what you’re telling me here,” Niall said. 

“I made out with Louis, and that’s why I stopped talking to you.” 

Niall closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so confused,” he said. “What does you kissing Louis have to do with me? Are you gay or…?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Liam said. “When it was just me and you, I didn’t feel any pressure to…think about it. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but when I saw you with him, I was jealous. Not really because you wanted to be with him and not me, but because you wanted to be with him and weren’t really scared of it.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked. “If you were confused or anything, I could have helped.”

“This isn’t easy for me.” The aggravation in his voice rose. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not like you. You came out, and I know it wasn’t easy with how your dad responded, but you never really cared. You just are what you are, and you’re ok with it. I’m not ok with it. I don’t know how to be ok with it. And it’s really hard when your two best friends are gay, and…I’m sorry, ok? Part of me just wanted you to be unhappy, I guess, because that was the only way I could keep you to myself and not have to deal with my own issues. It makes no sense, and it was fucked up.” 

“It’s going to be ok,” Niall said after a moment of silence. Liam nodded. 

“He seems nice,” Liam said. “You always look happy when you’re with him.” 

“I am,” Niall said. Liam nodded again. “So are you and Louis…?”

“I don’t know,” Liam said. The corners of his mouth twitched; Niall could see him fighting the smile. “I’m still figuring things out. He’s just—he’s Louis. I think he may be smarter than we’ve given him credit for.”

“God, don’t let him hear you say that,” Niall joked. 

“Never,” Liam said. They both laughed. Liam started chewing on his lip again. “We’re going to be ok eventually, right?”

“Yeah,” Niall said. Over Liam’s shoulder, he could see Louis and Harry talking; Harry was laughing at whatever Louis was saying. “Eventually.”


	14. Another House Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall Horan comes from a world of privilege. He is popular—friends with everyone—yet he feels alone everywhere he goes. That is until Harry Styles transferred to his school. Harry’s world is nothing like Niall’s, but it is clear that he’s as lonely as Niall, though he won’t admit it. Niall is determined to break through—to become his friend—because it just might save both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets a bit...mature. Just so you're warned.

“I really don’t want to do this,” Harry said. He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the passenger seat. Niall barely registered the remark because Harry had said it approximately thirty-seven times since they got in the car to make the short trip. 

“It’s really not that bad, Haz,” Niall said, trying to placate him. “We just have to make an appearance for Lou then we can hide in the theater. And in the morning, he’ll makes breakfast.”

“We have to stay there?” Harry asked. His eyes widened, clearly horrified. Niall sighed and reached over and took his hand. 

“Well, we don’t have to, but wouldn’t it be nice to have the whole guest house to ourselves?” he asked. In the week that Niall’s parents had been home, Niall really didn’t like being there. He had gotten used to cuddling with Harry on the couch and splashing around in the tub. With his mother almost always around the house, they had to be more careful. He felt restricted and needed a break.

Harry huffed and didn’t seem pleased. Ever since the night at the food court, they had been spending more and more time with Louis and Liam—mostly to get out of the house. Things were still awkward between Niall and Liam. They were both trying. Niall was surprised by how well Harry and Louis got on, but, still, Harry preferred to it to be just the two of them. 

“It’ll be just us most of the night, I promise,” he said. Harry’s hand twitched in his grasp as they pulled up to the house, which was already flooded with people. Niall lifted his hand and kissed it. “Ultimately, yeah?” 

Harry glared at him as if angry that Niall was using that against him. “Not if you keep dragging me to shit like this,” he said, but his body relaxed and his grip tightened around Niall’s, squeezing gently. He had a hard time saying the word back, but he had his little ways of showing Niall what he meant. 

Niall locked the car behind them and guided Harry toward the house. A couple people looked at them strangely, whispering under their breath and staring. They ignored them and pushed through. There was a crowd of people by the stairs. Harry reached over and took Niall’s hand, parting the crowd to make a clear path for Niall. 

Louis’ room was one of the few rooms in the house off-limits to guests, so it was locked. Niall knocked twice and waited for the door to open. Louis stood in the doorway with his signature smile and his hair pointed in all different directions. 

“Hey!” he said. “You actually came!”

“Said we would, didn’t I?” Niall pushed past him and plopped on the couch in the corner of the room. Harry sat down next to him, swinging one of his legs over Niall’s. Both of them ignored Liam’s obviously kiss-swollen lips and the marks that riddled Louis’ neck. It was clear that they were together in some capacity, but Niall knew better than to ask them to put a label on it. 

Niall remembered when first started dating Zayn. Everything felt new and different. Granted, by the time he and Zayn got together, he was already comfortable with who he was. He couldn’t imagine what was going through Liam’s mind, how confused and frustrated he must have felt. Niall wished there was something he could say to him to show him that it was ok, but he could never find the words. 

Louis crawled back on the bed and sat an appropriate distance from Liam. “I know you said you would, but I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been mad. I understand.” 

“So, is this what you do?” Harry asked. “Host a party then sit in your room all night?”

“No, I make periodic trips downstairs for alcohol and to make sure nothing is being destroyed,” Louis said with a shrug. “Speaking of, I’m going to get a drink. Do any of you want anything?”

“I don’t drink,” Harry said. 

“What, too smart for all that?” Louis joked. 

“Something like that,” Harry responded. Niall stretched his arm behind Harry and rubbed his shoulder. 

“Horan?” Louis looked disgusted when Niall shook his head. “You’re the worst Irishman in the history of the world. At least Mr. One-Kidney has an excuse—even if it’s a shit one. I’ve seen you drink, Payne.” 

“You just want me to get drunk so you can take advantage of me,” Liam said. Louis smirked as Liam’s face scrunched up. He glanced at Niall then looked away quickly as his cheeks burned bright red.

“Oh, sweetie, I think I’ve proven I don’t have to get you drunk to take advantage of you,” Louis said. He poked Liam on the nose and scooted off the bed. The sounds of the party filled the room momentarily, then were shut off again with the soft click of the door closing. 

They were all quiet for a minute, and much to Niall’s surprise, it was Harry who broke the silence. “It’s not a big deal—with us, I mean,” he said, looking at Liam. “I know what it’s like when your parents hate it. Trust me, I do, but that doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“You told him?” Liam asked Niall. Niall held his hands up defensively. Though Harry had asked him what he and Liam talked about, it wasn’t his place to discuss Liam’s sexuality, so he didn’t. 

“He didn’t have to,” Harry said. His hands rested on Niall’s thigh, kneading it gently as he spoke. “Look, I know you don’t know me, and you probably don’t like me, but you’re kind of stuck with me—with us. All I’m saying is you don’t have to be ashamed. We’re all in the same boat.” 

“I, uh, ok?” Liam crossed his arms over his stomach; it was something he always done when he felt uncomfortable or exposed. He shifted his weight and didn’t look at them. “I don’t not like you.” 

“Good to know,” Harry said with a small laugh. He looked Niall and shrugged. 

When Louis came back up stairs carrying beers for him and soda for everyone else, Liam sat a little closer to him. Louis didn’t say anything, but he looked content to have Liam’s shoulder pressing against his.

*** 

Louis told them they were welcome to the guesthouse whenever the party cleared out, but at midnight, it was still going strong. After Harry’s talk with Liam, things were slightly less tense, but Niall could see Harry was itching to get away for a while. 

“We’re going to go down to the theater,” Niall said as he pulled Harry off the couch with him. 

“Damn, now we’ll have to find a way to entertain ourselves,” Louis said to Liam.

“I think we’ll be able to manage,” Liam said quietly, sneaking his arm around Louis’ waist. Louis giggled and leaned into him; Niall could tell Louis was shocked by Liam’s blatant affection, but he obviously wasn’t going to push him away. Harry pushed Niall out of the room as Louis pressed his lips against Liam’s. 

*** 

The theater housed all the most expensive equipment in the house—the blu-ray player, the video games, the projection screen that stretched across the whole back wall, and the endless library of movies that could be flipped through on the tablet remote. Louis kept it under lock when he had his parties, knowing it would be an ideal place to hang out, and he didn’t want anything to get ruined. 

Niall unlocked the door with the key he’d had for ages, and they slipped in. He turned the lights on, but kept them dim. He sat down in the back row of seats on one of the loveseats and pulled Harry down onto his lap. “Thank you,” he said before kissing him.

“For what?” Harry straddled his waist and wove his fingers through his hair. 

“For being nice to Liam,” he said. “It means a lot to me.”

“I just remember what it was like—before you when I didn’t really had anyone,” he said. He was looking at Niall’s cheek rather than his eyes. He connected the freckles as he spoke. “He has people, but he feels like he doesn’t. He shouldn’t feel like that.” 

“You’re such a good person.”

“You say that like you’re shocked,” Harry said, finally meeting his eyes and smiling. 

“Not even in the slightest.” Niall grabbed his neck and pulled him back down. He caught Harry’s bottom lip between his and sucked gently. Harry crawled further up his thighs, pressing their bodies closer together. Niall’s fingers slid up Harry’s shirt and dug into his waist. Harry pulled back and tossed the shirt to the side. 

Niall attached his lips to Harry’s neck, creating a path from Adam’s apple to clavicle. His tongue dipped into the hollow above the bone and started back up his neck. Niall groaned as Harry rolled their hips together. Harry dragged his lips down Niall’s jaw and pulled at his shirt until Niall took the hint and threw it to the side. Niall knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his growing erection for long, so he tightened his grip on Harry’s waist to steady him. 

Harry pulled away. “Do you want to stop?” he asked, his bottom lip jutting out. It was so temptingly red that Niall just wanted to bite onto it.

“No,” he said honestly. He never wanted to stop, but Harry usually did anyway. 

“Ok.” 

Harry leaned back down. He nipped at Niall’s ear while his hands coasted down his torso, stopping at the hem of his jeans. Niall swallowed. Harry grinded his hips down; his erection collided with Niall’s, and they both groaned. His fingers pulled at the button of Niall’s jeans.

“Is this ok?” he asked. He pulled back so he could look at him; Niall nodded. He didn’t know where this side of Harry had come from—the side that took control and didn’t stop. It was new, but there was no way Niall was going to fight him on it.

Harry brought their lips together again and slid his hand down the front of Niall’s pants. Niall moved into the touch while fighting with Harry’s belt. 

Harry’s hand moved over Niall’s boxers, but Niall’s pushed through the elastic band of Harry’s and gripped bare skin. Harry inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away; he slid into Niall’s boxers, his hand closing around the base. They stayed like that for a while—with timid fingers caressing unknown skin.

Eventually, Niall freed Harry from his confines, and Harry followed suit. He scooted up Niall’s thighs and pushed Niall’s hand away. His long fingers closed around both of them. Niall closed his eyes and savored the feeling of being pressed against Harry, his fingers holding them together as he moved against him. 

Harry closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Niall’s. He bit his lip as he thrust into his grip. Niall’s hands cupped his face then moved down his chest and across his stomach. Harry released his lip, letting his mouth fall open. Low moans escaped, falling onto Niall’s lip. Harry’s cheeks were flushed and a thin layer of sweat clung to his body; Niall was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful.

As the pressure in his stomach grew, Niall wrapped his hand around Harry’s. Harry’s eyes opened and met Niall’s. He thrust against him faster. 

“God. Harry.” His voice was barely a whisper. His free hand held on to Harry’s waist; his nails dug into his skin. The room was soundproof but he still searched for Harry’s lips to stifle his moan. His shoulder’s arched off the back of couch; the blood pumped faster through his veins; he moaned; Harry bit down on his lip. Niall whimpered and slumped against the couch, his stomach now hot and sticky. His hand fell away.

Harry held them tightly and continued to move against Niall until he came. Harry’s grip loosened, but he didn’t let go as they came down, kissing lazily. Niall ran his nails down Harry’s back and smiled when he shuddered. 

Niall opened the console that was between the seats and handed the box a tissues to Harry. Harry wiped off his hand and their stomachs then wrapped his arms around Niall and cuddled into his chest. He closed his eyes and mumbled something while Niall ran his hand through his hair and down his back.

“What did you say?” Niall asked.

“Ultimately.” 

*** 

When the last party-goer finally left around two in the morning, Louis found Niall and Harry curled up, half naked in the theater. 

“Really?” he said in a shrill voice as he turned the lights up. “In my theater? I sit there sometimes.” Harry groaned and buried his face in Niall’s face to guard from the light. “You guys can move to the guesthouse. I don’t care if you have sex in there.”

“Didn’t have sex,” Niall said through his yawn. 

“I can’t see that.” Louis kicked the soiled tissues; his lip curled in what might have been disgust, but maybe it was approval. Niall couldn’t tell. “You can clean this up. I’m sure as hell not doing it. You can let yourselves out.” 

“Where’s Liam?” After Louis’ parties, it was Niall’s job to make sure Liam made it to bed or back home. Niall only asked out of habit. He stretched, and Harry kissed his neck before getting up.

“In bed,” Louis said with a smug grin.

“Did you have sex?” Harry asked, picking up his shirt from the floor.

“Like I would tell you if we did, Styles. Go to bed.” 

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Harry said once Louis left. Niall draped his shirt over his shoulder; he took Harry’s hand in one hand and their trash in the other. On the way out, he tossed the garbage in the bin. 

Harry was like a zombie yawning and dragging his feet as Niall pulled him across the yard. He kicked off his pants as soon as the door closed behind them and collapsed on the bed that was in the back. Niall lay down behind him and pulled him close. 

“You were right,” Harry said sleepily. Niall tugged the covers over the two of them. “It wasn’t so bad.” 

“I told you; we know how to make our own fun.” Harry smiled, and Niall kissed his dimple.


	15. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update! I'm a bad person. Don't hate me. I'll try to be quicker with the rest.

When Harry and Niall walked into the kitchen, Liam was standing behind Louis with his chin resting on the older man’s bare shoulder, watching as he struggled with the bacon popping in the pan. Louis groaned as grease jumped up and hit him in the chest. Liam laughed and pushed him out of the way to salvage the food. 

“It’s not that difficult, Lou,” Liam said, flipping the strips. Louis huffed and rubbed the red spot on his chest. 

“I could have been seriously injured,” Louis whined. Liam leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, which seemed to placate him.

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep the house in one piece all these years,” Liam said. He poked at the eggs, which were on the warming burner to keep them from getting cold. 

“Well, I always have you here to stop the fire before it starts,” Louis said, poking Liam teasingly in the side. Niall had never seen his eyes look so…sparkly. They absolutely shined as he spoke with Liam. Then again, maybe they had always looked that way when he looked at him; to be honest, Niall had never really paid much attention.

“Lucky you,” Liam said. He scooped up the bacon and set it down on the paper towel-covered plate.

“Lucky me.” He grabbed Liam by the neck and pulled him down. Their lips came together effortlessly as Liam’s hands gripped Louis’ waist. Niall’s head tilted to the side, and he fought the urge to ‘aw’ out loud. Harry nudged him, bringing him back to reality. He cleared his throat.

Louis and Liam both looked over at them, but didn’t pull apart. “Morning,” Louis said cheerfully, his hands still draped around Liam’s neck. “Breakfast is done—I think. Is breakfast done, Li?” 

“Yes, Lou, breakfast is done,” he said. He squeezed Louis’ hips then let him go. “Set the table.”

“Ugh, I made the eggs,” Louis said, dramatically slumping against the counter. “It was exhausting. Make them do it.” 

“Worst host ever,” Niall said, walking past Louis and reaching up to get plates. “Harry, can you get forks? They’re in that drawer next to Liam.” Harry nodded and pulled out four forks. “Louis, get the juice.” Louis groaned, but trudged over to the fridge anyway. 

Louis took his time getting back to the table. He plopped the carton of orange juice onto the table and sat down next to Liam, who was filling all the plates with food. He watched Liam’s every move as if he had never seen anybody do anything so interesting. Niall wondered if he and Harry looked like that. Harry hooked his foot with Niall’s and ran his hand over his thigh. Yeah, they probably looked exactly like that.

“So,” Louis said through a mouthful of eggs. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Please swallow before you speak,” Liam said. He rolled his eyes when Louis giggled. “And don’t be perverted at the table.” Louis laughed again and stuck out his tongue full of chewed up eggs. Liam cringed and shook his head. “You’re a child,” he said.

“Does that make you a pedophile?” Louis asked, finally swallowing his food. 

“Probably,” Liam said with a shrug, stabbing at his eggs. “I’ll have to consult the family lawyer.” 

Niall snorted, almost choking on his food, partially at the idea of Liam actually talking to his lawyer about such a thing, but mostly because Niall had really missed how Liam was so effortlessly funny. It was always Louis who brought it out of him; Niall really should have seen it earlier. 

“Anyway,” Louis continued. “I was thinking about the winter formal.” 

“What about it?” Niall asked.

“We should go,” Louis said. Harry groaned. “Look, Styles, you’re my friend now, so you’re going to have to get used to the fact that I will take advantage of every occasion I have to dress up and look fabulous—well, more fabulous. You also have to get used to the fact that I’m going to drag you along, so you can bask in how awesome I look and sing my praises.” 

“Oh, is that what I’m supposed to do?” Harry asked, looking mildly amused. 

“Yes,” Louis said simply. “Liam, tell him that’s what he’s supposed to do.” 

Liam shrugged and continued eating. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the friendship agreement you are forced to sign upon induction,” he said.

“Well, maybe I should have had the family lawyer look that over before I signed it,” Harry said. Liam chuckled and nodded. 

“Yeah, me too because apparently mine had some clauses I wasn’t aware of.” 

“Honey, you wrote those in yourself,” Louis said. “Anyway, we’re going to go, and like get a limo and eat somewhere that will bankrupt my parents because it’s my last year, and I want to do it right.” 

“Wouldn’t it be a little…obvious if we all go together though?” Niall asked carefully, his eyes flicking toward Liam then back down. “I mean, people pretty much know that Harry and I are together. And everyone knows you’re gay, so wouldn’t they just assume… about you two, I mean?”

Liam’s grip on his fork tightened, and Louis’ face twisted. “I guess, I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I mean, we could, um, I don’t know. Never mind.” He stared down at his food, clearly disappointed. Liam reached over and took his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” Louis said. He smiled weakly and squeezed Liam’s hand. “I understand.”

“Have you had dates to the other dances?” Harry asked Liam. “Have you always gone with girls?”

“No,” Liam said. “I usually just went with Louis and Niall.”

“Who are both openly gay,” Harry said. Liam nodded then shrugged. “Then why does it matter? It’s just like every other dance except there’s an extra person tagging along.” Liam looked like he was contemplating it; Louis looked hopeful. 

“He’s right,” Niall chimed in. “I think if you can talk Louis out of the inevitable matching suits he’s already picked out, it won’t be any different than any other year we’ve gone together.” 

“Yeah, we don’t have to, like, dance together or anything,” Louis said. “We can just sit around like we always do. Yeah?”   
Liam smiled and shook his head.

“What have I gotten myself into with you, Tomlinson?” he asked. Louis threw his arms around Liam’s neck and kissed his cheek. 

*** 

After breakfast, Louis went into full-on planning mode. No matter how many times they reminded him that the dance was over a month away, he still kept scrolling through the limo rental website with his parent’s credit card on hand. Once he had that situated, he started talking about clothes. He looked horrified when Harry mentioned not having a suit. Louis grabbed the younger man’s hand and dragged him upstairs before he could protest.

“Don’t kill my boyfriend!” Niall called after them. Louis waved him off and continued toward his room.

“I don’t think he’ll kill him,” Liam said, glancing over his shoulder. “He might come back injured though.” Niall laughed. “I, um, I really missed you, Niall,” he said after a moment of silence.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Niall said. “I’m really glad Louis forced you into talking to me. I probably wouldn’t have spoken to you again otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” Liam said. “I was a proper twat.”

“God, he’s even gotten you cursing,” Niall joked. “I think Louis’ been a bad influence.” 

Liam laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, he probably has been,” he said. “I, uh, really like him though. He’s…good.” Niall raised an eyebrow; Liam winced and closed his eyes. “Not like that. I mean, I don’t know…we haven’t really…well, kind of, but…I just mean.”

“Liam, it’s ok,” Niall said; he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Liam exhaled. 

“Thanks,” Liam said. “It’s just really scary sometimes, you know?” 

“Yeah, I remember when I was with Zayn,” Niall said. “No idea what I was doing.”

“It’s like, I’ve kissed girls before, you know? But it’s so different because he’s not a girl,” Liam said. He leaned onto the arm of the couch. Niall could see him searching for the right words; it was like he had wanted to talk to someone about this for so long.

“Girls are, like, all delicate and stuff,” Liam went on. “He’s like…a guy, and he’s strong. He doesn’t look strong, but he is, and at first, it just felt so weird—but at the same time it didn’t.” Liam’s face scrunched. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s really ok,” Niall said. “I think it’s cute.” 

“I think it’s always been Louis,” Liam said thoughtfully. “We were always, um, close.”

“What do you mean?” Niall asked. 

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “Like if I stayed here, I usually stayed in his bed instead of the guestroom. We usually kind of just gravitated toward each other—like if we were watching movies or something.”

“Yeah, yeah, I see that,” Niall said, thinking about to all the times Liam and Louis maneuvered themselves so they were always next to each other, or the way Louis pretended to be scared during movies just so he could curl into Liam’s side. Niall never thought twice about how effortless and natural it seemed to Liam just to wrap his around Louis. “I always just thought it was because Louis thought you were hot.” 

“I wish I would have stopped being so ridiculous earlier,” Liam admitted. “I always told myself that I wasn’t, or that I was bi, and I could just date girls, but I’m not. I’m gay, and I really like Louis.” 

There was an unexpected swelling in Niall’s chest. “That’s so great, Liam, really,” he said. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I just should have realized it was ok sooner. I mean, especially around you guys. It took someone who is almost a complete stranger calling me out on it to realize that.” 

“He’s a pretty great almost complete stranger though,” Niall said with a smile. 

“Boys, don’t mean to interrupt your little pow-wow down there,” Louis called as he was coming down the stairs. “But we look amazing.” He pulled Harry to a stop next to him on the bottom stairs. Niall was used to seeing Louis in a suit—standard black pants, white shirt, ridiculously bright braces and jacket—but he was not prepared for how good Harry looked.

His torso seemed to go on forever in the white shirt, which had the top two buttons undone. A gray jacket was buttoned around him, hugging his waist just as snuggly as the black dress pants were. His hair was still a mess, and he wasn’t wearing shoes. He shrugged at Niall.

“Right?” Louis said, noticing Niall’s gaping expression. “He cleans up nicely.” 

*** 

When they finally started to make their way back home, the sun was setting. Harry yawned and rested his head against the window. He had fallen asleep during the movie they had been watching, and Niall had to wake him up to leave. By the way he was balled up in his seat, Niall didn’t think he’d survive the short ride back. Harry’s eyes slipped closed.

“I know Louis and Liam aren’t going as a couple,” Harry said suddenly. “But does that mean we can’t?” 

“I don’t know,” Niall said. “Do you want to be my date?”

“I mean, I’m going to be anyway,” Harry said with a shrug. “And Liam is going to be Louis’, but what if we weren’t all secret about it like them?”

“You never struck me as the type to want to do that kind of thing,” Niall said as he turned onto his street. Harry shrugged again.

“People know about us anyway,” Harry said. “Plus, maybe I just want to dance with you.” 

Niall stopped his car in his driveway and leaned over the console. He kissed Harry’s cheek. “You can always dance with me,” he said. He poked Harry in the side and got out of the car. He waited for Harry to come around before making his way up the front steps, Harry leaning into him as they walked.

Niall noticed the strange car that was parked at the curb, but didn’t think much of it. It was older and looked out of place in the neighborhood. He figured his dad was having an employee over for dinner like he sometimes did before he promoted them. Harry didn’t seem to notice it at all, but the moment they walked into the house, Niall wished he had. Niall felt Harry’s whole body tense next to him, his fingers fisting the back of Niall’s shirt. 

“Dad,” Harry said quietly. The man sitting across from Niall’s parents turned and smiled at them.


End file.
